


Decide On Me

by AHumanFemale



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Complete, I delivered, M/M, Pining, Smut, Sonny is always bisexual, TERROR ALERT for sudden cliffhanger, Violence, requested by a reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHumanFemale/pseuds/AHumanFemale
Summary: In the middle of an ugly case regarding soulmates, Carisi and Barba make a stunning discovery.  Sonny feels like the whole world just opened up to him but Barba only feels pain, and Sonny really needs to know why.  And what he can do to fix it.  Soulmate!AU





	1. What Sonny Believes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



> This is a first for me - the soulmate AU - so please let me know if it works. It was surprisingly difficult to world build. Thank you for reading!
> 
> (p.s. - Thanks tobeconspicuous for the recommendation to give this a try.)

 

**Decide on Me**

 

**Chapter One : What Sonny Believes**

  
  
  


There were a great many things that Sonny believed in.

Family, for one.

God, for another.

Justice, because he firmly believed that even if the system fails someone that bad people get what’s coming to them.  Eventually.  Some justice he might never know about but he still believed that it occurred.  It was either that or start accepting that God honestly didn’t give a crap about his creations, had no real sense of right and wrong, and Sonny sure as hell didn’t believe that.

It was the immediate kind of justice that had his attention now, positioned behind a barricade of squad cars in the middle of a Manhattan street at just past seven in the morning.  A cell phone was in his hand and a Kevlar vest across his chest because a few hundred feet in front of him was a hostage situation.  Guy decided to take a couple of salesgirls hostage in a shoe store overnight - he let one of them go, after which she called the cops and reported that the friend still inside had been raped.  No gun but he did have a baseball bat that he didn’t seem afraid to use.  SVU had been on scene twenty minutes later.

Benson was hanging out with SWAT - encouraging them nicely not to risk any shots yet, although probably she wasn’t being very nice about it because she was scary when she meant business - and Rollins was posted with the uniforms.  Fin was situated with some more SWAT around the back of the building in case of an escape attempt.  The suspect, Christian, had refused to talk to Benson, then Rollins, then the head of SWAT, and here he was.  The man with SWAT’s phone who’d had not a hell of a lot of hostage negotiation training.  They’d been talking on and off for fifteen minutes.  He was just praying for the best at this point.  

The best being that no one died and he didn’t get fired.  

The phone in his hand vibrated and he let it ring twice before answering, putting it to his ear and keeping his eyes on the storefront ahead of him.  

“Christian?”

“Is this Sonny?”

Christian sounded young.  Sounded scared with a little sprinkle of self-righteousness and Sonny didn’t know what that was about but it worried him anyway.  

“Yeah, this is Sonny,” he replied.  “How are things going in there?”

“She’s pissed off.”

“That happens sometimes,” he said nonchalantly while his brain filled in the rest.

_ … when you assault someone. _

“You need anything?” he asked instead.  “We’re just hanging out here, waiting for you.  Whenever you’re ready.”

Benson shot him a look, exasperated.

Right.  He wasn’t supposed to be putting any pressure.

“I love her,” the kid added wretchedly, seemingly unaware of Sonny’s blunder.

“I kind of figured you did, Christian,” he replied.  “I could hear it in your voice when you said Heather’s name.  It’s pretty obvious you care about her.”

He gave a soft chuckle.  “My mom said the same thing.”

“You know what, though?  That’s a good thing.  That means we can be sure you won’t hurt Heather-” 

_ … more than you already have… _

“-and that we don’t need to worry about you two.  I know you were always going to do the right thing.  We just surprised you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I just got surprised.”

“That’s why it’s me talking to you instead of anyone storming in, buddy,” he said.  “I can be here all day, don’t even worry about it.”

_ Christ, he sucked at this. _

“I just had to show her.  Show her how I feel, so she'd know.  So she'd feel the same way I do.”

“Hey, you know what?  That takes guts, Christian,” he said, even though the words tasted sour in his mouth  “Not all of us could do that.  It's easier to just keep quiet sometimes because you never know how it'll go.”

“I couldn't.  Not anymore.”

“You're tougher than me, then, I'll tell you that much,” he laughed stiffly.  “But hey, it takes all kinds, right?  Now you gotta show her what a real man does to make things right.  You gotta be brave for her for a minute, alright?”

“What?”

“Come out and talk to me in person, Christian,” he replied and turned to ignore Benson’s wild expression.  Too soon to talk about coming out, apparently, but he had a feeling.  “Heather can come out with you.  Together and all.  And we'll work this out, you and me.  She'll see that you're a good man, that you can do the right thing.  She'll see how brave you are and how serious you are about taking care of this.  That means something, Christian.”

“Yeah…”

“See?  I knew this would be fine.  Everybody’s worried for nothing.”

“Nobody’s gonna shoot me, right?”

“Nah, you don't gotta worry about that.  That's only if we think you're gonna hurt Heather or us and I don't think you're about that.”

He answered quickly, “No, I'm not.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about.  Meet me outside?  I can come open the door if you want.  If that's easier.”

Benson made a strangled noise behind him. 

“Yeah, sure.  Is that you in the suit?  The tall one?”

“Yeah, that's me.  I'm coming to you, just hold tight.”

Sonny turned and tossed the phone to Benson who looked like she was a few seconds away from a justifiable homicide defense, but that feeling was still there so he went with it.  That feeling told him Christian really didn't think he hurt Heather, didn't understand that this was a big deal or that there would be consequences, so as long as Sonny didn't escalate things they'd all be fine.  

He crossed the street and headed for the small shop’s front door, painted a shade darker than neon pink and lined with some kind of animal print.  Gina could probably tell him, if he cared to ask.  He gave a few short taps and heard the deadbolt slide back along with some very fast, very angry Spanish.  Languages other than English weren't his strong suit but he guessed there were more than a few words in there that translated to four letters.  He waited patiently while the door cracked open and Sonny came eye to eye with a towhead with big brown eyes, looking nervous.  He couldn't have been more than twenty. 

“Christian?”

“Hey, Sonny.”

“Heather with you?”

Another blast of Spanish.  

“Yeah, she's here,” he answered and grinned like he found her anger adorable.  Kid had issues.

Sonny tried to peer through the crack to see if he could get eyes on a weapon.  

“Don't hit me with that bat, okay?  If I show up to Sunday dinner with a shiner my Ma will kill me.”

That made Christian scoff.  “Don't worry, I tossed it.  I didn't think I'd need it anymore.”

“Good call, man,” he said with a grin.  “You know cops.  They get jumpy.”

“Aren't you a cop?”

“Yeah, but don't worry about me.  I'm cool as a cucumber,” he assured him and cleared his throat.  “Now, here's what's going to happen.  We're all going to come out together and you're going to stick with me.  Heather is going to go with my blonde friend out front, her name’s Amanda.  We're going to split up from there, okay?  Just to talk.  Once we're out of here this is going to get way simpler.  You got this.” 

Christian nodded.  “Let's go.”

The door pulled open and there was Heather, a dark haired Latina with fire in her eyes and you know what?  Good for her.  That was keeping her functioning at the moment.  A few buttons had been torn from her shirt and there were what looked like bruises on her collarbone.  Sonny gave her his best reassuring smile but she wasn't paying attention to him at all.  She looked at Christian with undisguised revulsion and Sonny wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't take a swing if she had the chance.  He probably wouldn't stop her.  

The door opened fully and he looked down to see Christian holding her hand in a bruising grasp, forcing affection that he wouldn't have gotten any other way.  He suppressed the urge to drag Heather out of his grip but this was almost over anyway.  She’d get free soon enough.  

“Alright, we’re going to walk together to the street and then we’re going to split up.  You good, Christian?” he asked and watched the kid steel himself and nod.  “Heather, you ready to go?”

She spared Sonny little more than a nod in his direction.  

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Christian told her and she was definitely about to take a swing and he didn't even realize it.  Sonny kind of had some mental health concerns at this point. 

Then they were walking.

Sonny ever so slightly in front, just in case some rookie shooter got nervous.  Christian kept his victim’s hand held tight in his own until they reached the asphalt on the road.  Then, before Sonny had even gotten the chance to process movement, Heather had jerked her hand away and spit in her attacker’s face before running off to a beckoning Rollins.  Christian bellowed and tried to run off after her, resulting in every cop on the street shouting a warning, but Sonny was quicker.  He took Christian down himself, putting his face to the ground and placing a knee between his shoulder blades.  It didn’t do much to calm him down but it did keep Christian in place while the kid cursed Sonny up one side and down the other, howling in rage. Applying just enough pressure, just enough to keep him immobile, he called for the uniforms to lower their weapons.  From the corner of his eye he could see Benson backing him up and gesturing for weapons to come down.  He placed a hand on the kid’s side to balance himself, and that's when he felt it.  

Two heartbeats. 

This kid was bonded. 

He looked over at the now sobbing teenager with Rollins and grimaced, because now he had another feeling.  One as to why this kid felt like it was his right to force himself on a girl, and why he felt strongly enough about it to take hostages.  It would take more questioning to be sure, but Sonny was nothing if not perceptive and he had a feeling there was another heartbeat in that girl’s chest too. 

Shit. 

Already preparing himself, Sonny pulled Christian off the ground and finally tuned back in to the litany of threats spewing out of the kid’s mouth.  The nervous kid was gone and in his place was a screaming rage monster who was threatening to do everything short of peeling Sonny’s skin off while he was still breathing.  Overreaction to the bond?  Either that or the kid had more mental problems than he gave him credit for and frankly that was pretty possible too. 

“Alright, alright, I get it.  You hate my guts,” Sonny muttered as he walked toward the line of cars, “You’re breaking my heart.”

Another round of threats.

Sonny handed the kid off to two uniformed officers and was happy to see him go.  At least he was until he turned around and his boss was standing right there, eyeing him like he was about to get desk duty for the next hundred years.  He did all he could do - smile and hope for the best.

“Hey there, Lieu,” he said.

“Carisi…”

“I know, I know.  Never do that again so long as I live,” he filled in, nodding.  “Gotcha.”

“Do you know what I would like you to not do?”

“All of it?”

“Mostly the going in without backup and positioning yourself in front of the suspect,” she said, pursing her lips.  

He nodded.  “Got it.  Won’t happen again.”

“Remind me to put you in some classes,” she said and then gently clapped his shoulder.  “You’ve got good instincts.  It’s too bad your execution is terrible.”

“Thanks, Lieu,” he said with a grin.  

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said and turned, “I’m going with Rollins to the hospital with the girl.  You get to take all this to Barba and explain.  Maybe if you bring coffee he won’t throw you out the window.”

He could think of worse ways to go.

In fact, Barba manhandling him to death would be one of his top five preferences.

“Sure thing,” he called to Benson’s back, “Got it under control!”

If only. 

Around Barba there wasn’t much Sonny could keep under control.  Not his mouth or his eyes or his stupid heartbeat - singular.  It had taken years but they’d managed to come from grudging coworkers to amiable ones, and then that still grew into a sexually charged mentorship.  Well, for him anyway.  It wasn’t for another couple of months after he passed the bar that Sonny picked up on a little something… extra in Barba’s gaze.  And now here they were, circling.  Waiting for the other.  Sonny was working on it, he really was, but the thought of being wrong and Barba mocking him into the ground kept his lips tightly shut.

For now, at least.

And that was fine.  Sonny loved the sarcastic sniping and implied insults to his intelligence.  They were fun for him, got his blood moving.  Especially considering that Barba would never have bothered if he’d actually believed the things he was saying.  Sonny would get curt one-word responses or dismissals, Barba never would have agreed to let Sonny shadow, and that would have been that.  So as far as he was concerned every one of those little jabs was a reminder that Barba liked him, that he thought he was worth the effort of messing with.  

Barba had even been particularly prickly for the last month or so.  Sonny noticed immediately, because there wasn’t a whole lot about Barba that he wasn’t keeping a close eye on these days.  At first he’d thought he’d screwed up in some way but now he wasn’t sure, just because Barba kept agreeing with him when the whole team was together.  He had his back, whether or not he actually ended up going with Sonny’s direction.  That alone was reason enough to make Sonny think about what was really going on in Barba’s head.  He was pretty sure he knew.

Barba was catching feelings.

Barba, king of snark and bored disapproval, had stumbled upon some emotions other than anger and stunned irritation.  Being attracted to Sonny was one thing - the guy had eyes, and Sonny wasn’t a bad looking guy.  But liking Sonny?  Oh, that was another ballgame entirely.

It was fucking great.

It was even better that Sonny knew.

It was  _ even better  _ that Barba knew that Sonny knew.

Now they were just dancing around each other, seeing who would cave first.  Sonny might not have much of a competitive streak but Barba did.  Sonny was fine losing - and that’s how Barba would see it - but he was fine to drag it out a little longer too.  Make Barba think it was a real hardship for him to give in and come knocking on his office door late one night with an offer of drinks or dinner.  It would satisfy Barba’s ego and still get Sonny what he really wanted, which was Barba.

 

**…**

 

When Sonny arrived at the ADA’s office it was dark inside still - Carmen wouldn’t arrive for another hour and technically Barba wasn't required to, either, but he almost always showed up before his assistant anyway.  He was happy to wait.  The bakery bag in his hand had an extra something for himself in there and there was another tall white cup next to the one he bought for Barba, his with a small splash of milk to soften the lingering aftertaste of espresso brewed for a few seconds too long.  He could take a breather after an eventful morning and not even feel bad about it.  

“And here I thought this was shaping up to be a good day.”

Or not. 

Sonny snorted - happily, if there was such a thing - at the man approaching him. 

“Good morning to you too, Counselor.  Is that how you talk to your favorite coworkers?” 

“No, I treat Olivia very kindly,” Barba deadpanned, and Sonny scoffed knowingly because he really had walked into that.  

Barba knew it, too, sending him a fond smirk as he walked past on the way to his door.  He was dressed in a navy suit that made his eyes greener with a bright yellow tie that made his skin darker.  Sonny salivated and it had very little to do with the scent of something buttery drifting up from the bag in his hand.  He was crazy about the way Barba dressed - he took the time, put in the effort to look good, because he liked himself.  Thought he deserved the special treatment.  That was pretty hot.  

And maybe Sonny noticed the way some ties showed up more often if he mentioned that he liked them.  

Coincidence?  

No way.  

Barba didn't do anything coincidentally. 

“Is there a reason you're darkening my doorstep so early, Detective?” Barba asked while unlocking the door and Sonny basked in it because somehow he made Sonny’s title sound like an endearment.  “Or have I angered someone already today?” 

Sonny grinned. 

“Depends.  Have you talked to someone already today?”

Barba gave him a droll look and let them inside, eyes hanging briefly on the items in his hand and Sonny didn't miss the  faint sigh that left his mouth.  There was a chance Barba hadn’t eaten anything yet, either.  He suddenly wished he’d sprung for something more substantial.  Still, he followed as Barba set down his things and turned on the lights, without words inviting Sonny to join him.  

“So,” he started and turned to find Sonny standing just a little too close and if a pleased smile toyed with the corner of his mouth a little, who would know?  

“First things first,” Sonny butted in holding the coffee cup up in offering, “This is for you.”

“You're either getting smarter with age or Olivia sent you,” he said but still accepted it with something like longing.  “Either way, thank you.”

Thank you?  

Oh, that was as good as a dozen roses from anyone other than Rafael Barba. 

“My pleasure,” Sonny said, leaving the bakery bag on Barba’s desk without comment.  Coffee was one thing but attempting to feed him was a good way to get his hand bitten clean off.  Affection in small doses, that was his game plan.  Barba would eat it later, would maybe think of Sonny and be privately thankful, and then maybe even show some sort of gratitude at a later date.  Preferably in the form of a handsy makeout session on Barba’s desk.  That hadn’t happened yet but he was still crossing his fingers.

Shit, Barba was talking. 

“... but supposing none of that is true, why did your Lieutenant sacrifice you to my company so early in the morning?” 

Was Barba being self-deprecating?  

Holy shit.  

This was clear up to hundreds of roses now. 

“Hostage situation.”

“What?” he asked blankly, as though those two words strung together didn't have any meaning for him.  

“Hostage situation.  You know, another one.  But everyone's fine, I promise.” 

“What do you people do outside of the precinct?” he cried incredulously.  “Do you just walk around and instigate things?  Jump in front of bullets, volunteer for hazard duty?”

“Hazard duty is the military.”

“That's not a no.”

“We just do the job, Barba.  Sometimes the job involves hostages.  Don't you want to hear about the arraignment you'll be doing later?” he asked and Barba sighed in response, nodding and walking around his desk.  He took a long drink from the cup in his hand and then seemed to brace himself as he lowered himself into his chair.  

“Fine.  What is it?”

“Christian Shaw, age twenty-one.  Took two girls hostage in a shoe store late last night, sexually assaulted one of them before letting the other go early this morning.  She's the one who called us,” he answered.  “He's in custody, en route to the tombs.  Girl is getting checked out at the hospital now.”

“Any casualties?”

“Nah.  Talked him out and it was over.”

“That seems suspiciously tame for you people,” he said skeptically, “But I got coffee out of it so I'm satisfied.  You’ll have reports on my desk by arraignment?”

“I’m headed that way now.  He’ll probably come late on the docket today, maybe even early tomorrow,  so I’ll make sure you have them by noon at the latest.”

“Great.  So what aren’t you telling me?”

He didn’t bother denying it.  They were past that now.

“I got no evidence whatsoever, but I think we’re looking at another overreaction case,” he said with a grimace.  Barba made a similar face and looked at his coffee cup like he wished it was something stronger.

Overreaction cases sucked.

They were hard to prove, harder to try, and the wrong jury would give you an acquittal because there was still a pretty widespread belief that overreaction was natural.  For all society’s advances, the oldest ideas lasted the longest.  Namely, that bonded souls belonged together.  Belonged to each other.  Meaning, you couldn’t rape what was already yours.

This was the world they belonged to.  One in which you went through life with only your own heartbeat until you manage to stumble across your soulmate.  Once a proclamation is made - and if you truly were bonded - a second heartbeat started up next to yours.  The rush of endorphins that followed the proclamation were said to be intense, something like a heavy dose of ecstasy.  Just for a few seconds, just to get you through the initial shock of another pulse showing up out of nowhere.  That few seconds was called the “moment of discovery” and now it was less of a romanticism and more of a legal term but there were still a litany of emotions attached to it.

A rush of feeling.

Of love.

Of belonging, unequivocally.  

Of suddenly understanding who you are, and who they are, and everything that was still ahead of you.

Many jurors were bonded themselves and remembered that time fondly so trying to convince them that those endorphins had negative effects on some people didn’t always go over well.  It was always taken as,  _ what you felt was wrong and you shouldn’t feel good about it.   _ In reality, less than one percent of the population experienced physiological and/or psychological overreaction to the bond.  Despite the relatively small percentage, these cases typically made the news because they were almost always ugly.  Many resulted in deaths so if Sonny’s hunch was right and Christian Shaw was bonded to his victim, they were all very lucky to get out of there alive.

“Are you sure?” Barba asked him, still grasping at a tiny ray of hope.

“Am I going to get on the stand today?  No.  But I am going to keep digging until I get something concrete.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“If it’s true he’ll probably scream it to high heaven at arraignment,” Barba thought aloud and Sonny nodded in agreement.  “We’ll need to get a psychocardiologist to examine them and confirm.  Preferably someone comfortable with testifying.”

“Dr. Holley?”

“Retired six months ago.”

“Crap.”

“That’s what I said six months ago,” he replied with a smirk.  “But I can handle this part, Carisi.  Just let me know what you find out before I start making calls.”

“Sure thing.  Get me a warrant for his apartment?” 

“You’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Sonny nodded, grateful, and Barba gave him a look that resembled pity.  Maybe he knew how late Sonny was going to end up working today.

“Good luck,” Barba told him seriously and they were probably up to rooms upon rooms of roses now.

Sonny gave him a weak smile and grabbed his own coffee.  He nodded in acknowledgement before heading out of Barba’s office, now too deep in thought to be pleased with the fact that Barba had reached for the food Sonny brought as he was leaving.  

There was a time when having a soulmate was a lifetime affair.  

For most that wasn’t a bad thing.  Most of the time it worked out well for everyone involved.  But there were cases of abuse, of rape and murder and kidnapping, and the more humans grew the more they tried to address it.  Small legal victories turned into bigger ones.  Now you could marry outside of your bond, or you could leave your bond at any time.  You couldn’t make their heartbeat go away, couldn’t get rid of the niggling feeling of doubt or the subconscious fear that something was missing, but you could live separately.  Most seemed to do fairly well.  It had taken decades but victims were getting more justice all the time.

Sonny listened to his heartbeat as he left 1 Hogan Place and tried to imagine feeling something else there.  Tried to imagine the high that might compel him to act like Christian had.  He couldn’t.  It wasn’t in his realm of experience because he didn’t have a soulmate, or at least hadn’t met them yet.

And that was something else Sonny believed in.

Soulmates.

Even as the rest of the world attributed less importance to that bond, tried to ignore its function, Sonny still believed.  He believed that it was one of God’s kindest gifts - the knowledge that you were on the right track, with the right person.  The person who would help you be the best version of yourself.  Because that’s what the bonds were about.  Not necessarily a fairytale, not even a guaranteed happily ever after, but the knowledge that this person was the best chance for you to thrive.  To succeed, to help you become the person you were meant to be.  Soulmates were a way to make the world a better place.  

That’s all Sonny ever wanted.

He climbed into his car and texted Benson before turning the key, letting her know that Barba was expecting reports and that he had them covered.  He would wait to share his overreaction theory for a little while.  It wasn’t a common line of questioning for them to ask in disclosure interviews but Benson was practically psychic when it came to this kind of thing so he had no doubts she’d sniff it out if there was something there.  Now all he had to do was brace himself against the rough road ahead - these cases turned into media circuses on a good day and there was a cynical voice in his head that said the ages of the two people involved were going to score more than a few Romeo-and-Juliet headlines.  

Sonny pulled into traffic and headed toward the precinct.


	2. What Sonny Finds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny finds evidence. Then he finds Barba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for the encouragement on this little project. It means a lot and I've been writing like crazy, so I hope I continue to deserve the praise. :)

 

**Chapter Two : What Sonny Finds**

  
  


“Docket number 468366, People versus Christian Shaw.  Hostage taking in the second, rape in the first, and assault in the third.”

Rafael flipped the pages of his notes until he found Shaw’s name and his own brief outline of Shaw’s case.  Carisi had sent him remarkably detailed reports the afternoon before but he didn't need those here, not when Shaw was just entering a plea.  The defendant was remarkably young, he noticed.  He looked even younger in an obviously ill-fitting suit that probably belonged to a male relative much bigger than him. 

“How do you plead?” Judge Chadwick asked, reading glasses perched on her wide nose as she eyed the defendant with disinterest.  His public defender cleared his throat before trying to speak above the din of the busy courtroom. 

“My client pleads not guilty, your honor.”

“Fine.  State on bail?”  

“We request remand, your honor.  Mr. Shaw has stalked his victim for weeks and wasn't above forcibly detaining her and a friend to have access to her.”

Rafael could hear the rebuttal already. 

_ My client is has no priors… upstanding young member of his community... _

“Your honor, my client is a young man with no priors whatsoever and is the sole caregiver for a mother struggling with cancer.  He needs to be able to work and care for her in the evenings when her nurses leave.”

Rafael scoffed. “He seemed very concerned with his caregiving duties when he kept two young girls detained against their will.  Remand, your honor?”

This time the defendant spoke.  “What's remand?”

“It means you will be held in custody until trial,” Judge Chadwick filled in, looking down her nose.  

“I can't do that!” he cried and looked at Rafael with barely constrained rage, his pale skin flushed scarlet with indignation.  “You're trying to keep me from her!”

Rafael arched a brow and looked at the judge again.  

“Your honor?”

“He's referring to his mother,” the public defender jumped to add, fooling no one.  

“I'm sure his mother is appreciative,” Judge Chadwick deadpanned and looked back at the files in front of her.  “Bail is set at two hundred and fifty thousand and I will be signing an order of protection for Ms. Maytorena.  No contact whatsoever, Mr. Shaw, or you will be remanded until trial.”

The defendant’s yelling in protest was drowned out by the bailiff calling the next case forward and the public defender herded his client out the side door before the judge noticed his behavior and changed her mind.  Rafael sighed and found himself unsettled by the hearing’s events.  Namely, the lack of events.  If the defendant and his victim truly were bonded he would have been screaming it to high heaven.  He hadn't and Rafael wasn't sure why.  The obvious answer was that Carisi’s hunch was incorrect but he found himself doubting that.  Maybe it was his own bias speaking for him but he trusted the detective’s judgment.  

If Carisi thought something was there, it probably was. 

He left the courtroom with a scowl twisting his features and his coffee machine on his mind.  He had about half an hour before his meeting with the DA and that was at least enough time for him to caffeinate, check his emails, and send a vaguely impatient text to Olivia requesting updates.  He didn't like surprises and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in for one. 

 

**…**

 

Sonny headed up to the fourth floor of Christian Shaw's apartment building, taking in the sounds of children screaming and televisions playing The Price is Right at inordinately loud volumes.  Fin climbed up the stairs behind him, complaining about the broken elevator.  Sonny had jokingly offered to carry him after the second floor but Fin just looked at him like he'd rather use Sonny’s skinny frame like a cane than even entertain those kind of thoughts.  

When they got to unit 4E Sonny slowed and pulled out the warrant in his pocket, knocking once Fin had caught up to him.  A young nurse answered the door, dressed in Winnie the Pooh nursing scrubs with her copper red hair piled high on the top of her head.  She looked tired as hell and not at all like she wanted to deal with whatever trouble the two of them were bringing. 

“Can I help you?”

“This the Shaw residence?”

“Yeah, Christine is asleep.  Is there something I can help you with?  The family’s having kind of a tough time right now.”

“I'm Detective Carisi and this is Detective Tutuola.  We're here to execute a search warrant on the personal effects of Christian Shaw,” he told her as kindly as possible, handing her the folded document.  She didn't even peek at it - the slump of her shoulders told him that she knew what was coming.  

“Come in,” she said, unlatching the chain and holding the door open for them.  “I'm Brooke, her hospice nurse.  One of them.”

“She's sick?” Sonny asked as she closed the door behind them.  The apartment was painfully small already and only looked smaller with all the medical equipment.  He could see the very edge of a hospital bed in the living room.  

Brooke nodded.  

“Cancer.  Started in her lung and it's everywhere now.  Maybe a few months left.”

“I'm sorry,” Sonny replied honestly.  

She nodded and cleared her throat.  

“I don't mean to be rude but could you try to be quiet while you work?  Christine was in a lot of pain this morning and she just fell asleep.  I won't get in your way or anything.”

“We’ll do our best to keep it down, ma'am,” Fin replied in a whisper.  “Could you show us to Christian’s room?”

“Sure, it's just through here.”

She led them through a narrow hallway to the bedroom at the end of it, the door adorned with a large yellow biohazard plaque that warned visitors to keep out.  She opened it and stood aside to let them squeeze in.  There wasn't much to see - a mattress and a box spring directly on the floor, an aging bookshelf at the foot of his bed and a tiny desk in the corner.  A uniform hung up on the window that looked like it belonged to some delivery service.  As far as entire lives went, this one didn't leave much evidence.  

“Thanks,” Fin told her, “We’ll let you know if we have any questions.”

Brooke nodded and stepped out of the room, lips pursed and eyes a little worried.  Sonny could see how she might have some emotional attachment to the family.  You don't take care of a sick woman all day for months without developing at least a little bit of an attachment.  

“What are you thinking?” Fin asked him, still whispering. 

“I'm thinking this looks like the bedroom of a kid who doesn't do much more than sleep and work.”

“You're right about that,” Fin agreed.  “Doesn't mean he wouldn't do something stupid, though.”

“Yeah.  Alright, let's see what we got.”

Sonny flipped the mattress and pulled off the sheets, at least expecting some nudie magazines before realizing that kids had the internet nowadays.  They didn't need magazines anymore.  He found nothing anyway.  There was a fossilized cough drop between the mattress and the wall.  His cell phone charger was plugged in at the head of the bed.  There was a GED study manual on a bookshelf that was probably older than the kid himself.  

“Hey, check this out,” Fin said, pulling his attention away from the old science fiction paperbacks that were coated in a heavy layer of dust.  

“Yeah, what do you got?”

“Love letters,” Fin replied, scowling.  “About a hundred of them.” 

“To Heather?”

“Looks like.” 

Sonny came over to stand next to Fin at the desk, peering over the thick leaf of notebook paper scrawled in ink.  The bulk of them were stuffed into a dictionary.  Most looked unfinished, like he didn't like his work and put it aside to start over.  The oldest dated back several months but those were fairly harmless.  Kid with a crush type stuff.  The more recent letters had language that was more intense, more desperate.  Words like “have to” and “need” instead of “hope” and “maybe”.  Nothing that would suggest a proclamation, though.  Proclamations only worked if you said them aloud - a letter wouldn't have gotten their moment of discovery.  

Benson had taken Heather’s statement at the hospital yesterday morning, after the rape kit and before Heather was given a sedative and told to take it easy for a while.  It looked like Christian had been obsessing over her for a while, starting when he delivered a shipment to the shoe store where Heather worked.  He kept finding excuses to come around after that.  Anything to see her.  Heather did admit to being bonded, but not to Christian.  Said it was a boy at her school, her boyfriend of a few months.  She wasn't sure why Christian had gotten so hung up on her.  

The only problem was that Sonny had a hard time thinking that Christian was bonded to someone else and had still pursued her to the point of an assault.  It was possible, anything was, but that feeling was nagging at him again.  It wouldn't quit, even as Fin bagged the letters and labeled them with the date and location. 

There wasn't much else to find in the bedroom, and the letters seemed pretty damning on their own.  The two of them did one more cursory look over everything and called it good, turning the light off behind them.  Then, just as he was turning away, a piece of white paper fluttering in the breeze from the open window caught his eye.  It was trapped under the desk, wedged between the wall and a discarded shoe.  Sonny asked Fin to hold up and went to investigate, crouching down to see that the paper was the same notebook paper as the rest of the love letters.  

“You see something?”

“Looks like another letter,” Sonny replied and pushed the desk chair out of the way to reach for the paper.  

His long fingers got a firm hold and he pulled gently to avoid ripping it in half.  A look at the first line confirmed that it was another letter, this one dated for two days ago.  The day he’d shown up at Heather’s workplace to terrorize her and her friend.  The second line more than spoke to Christian’s motive for the attack, not to mention put another bit of evidence toward Sonny’s hunch. 

Fin offered another evidence bag and he took it, labeling accordingly.  The two of them left the bedroom to find Brooke doing some paperwork in the kitchen.  She looked at them with barely concealed anxiety and cast her eyes toward the living room.  

“We have a few more questions if you don't mind,” Fin told her quietly.  “We can talk outside if that's better.”

Brooke nodded and took them into the hallway, keeping the door open a crack so she could hear any movement from inside.  

“I know Christian did this, and I know it was wrong, but I have to tell you this doesn't make sense to me.  He's not… this person.  He's not violent.  He wouldn't risk leaving his mother alone.”

“How long have you known him?” Sonny asked. 

“About eight months, since his mom went on palliative care.  He always seemed sweet, and very worried about her.  She doesn't… she doesn't know about him.  About the trouble she’s in.  You won't have to talk to her, will you?”

“Not if we can help it,” Fin told her.  “Have you heard him talk about this girl Heather before?”

“Yeah, a lot.  He had a serious thing for her.  Heard wedding bells and saw shooting stars and everything.”

“Did any of it seem wrong?  Like, too intense?” 

She thought about it a moment before answering.  

“A little.  Not originally, but starting about a month or so ago.  He would come home late because he stopped to try and talk to her.  Once I was dropping my little sister off at school and he was there, watching the other high schoolers get off the bus.  I assumed he was meeting her.”

“Did you see him the day before yesterday?”

She nodded.  “About seven o'clock, before I was supposed to clock out.  He said he had to go run an errand really quick and asked if I could stay a little longer.”

“And he never came back?”

“No.  I eventually called in another nurse when I couldn't get ahold of him.  I didn't know what else to do.  Then I turn on the news the next morning and there he is, screaming at the cops and being dragged off.”

Her eyes shot up at Sonny.  

“Hey, were you…”

“Yeah, we were both there yesterday morning,” he confirmed before she could finish her question.  “Did he tell you anything else?  Before he left?”

“No.  He said hi to his mom and thanked me and took off.  He acted like he was going to be back in a few minutes.”

“Thanks for your help, Brooke,” he told her honestly.  “Hey, uh, could we call you again?  If we think of any other questions?”

“Yeah, sure.  I'll be here or you can go through the agency.  Let me grab you a card.”

She ducked back inside for a minute and came out again with a plain white business card, the name and logo of a home health company typed in bold letters on one side.  With a pen stuck in her hair she scrawled another number on the back and labeled it as her cell number before handing it to Fin. 

“I may not answer immediately but I'll get back to you as soon as I can,” she told them and cleared her throat.  “Does… does Christian have a lawyer?  Someone to help him?”

Fin nodded.  “Yes ma'am.  He has a court appointed lawyer to help him with a defense.” 

She looked relieved.

“I’m glad.  The guy you saw yesterday, the one who hurt that poor girl - that’s not him.  He didn’t exist before two nights ago,” she said earnestly, like she very much wanted Sonny and Fin to understand.  “I just… I want someone to know that.”

“We understand.  Thanks again for your help,” Fin said and headed for the stairs.  Sonny started to follow.  There wasn’t much else they could learn and yet… that feeling.  Giving into his compulsion, Sonny turned back and asked his final question.

“Say, was Christian bonded?”

Brooke looked surprised.

“No, no way.  He would have said something about that.”

Sonny nodded and thanked her again, walking past Fin on his way back to the stairwell.  He had to work to keep his face in a neutral expression, as though the question was a curiosity rather than something vital.  Sadly Fin had an extra fifteen years worth of experience reading people and wasn’t having it for a second.

“I know you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Fin said ominously as they climbed down the first flight of steps.  

“What’s that, Sarge?”

“You’re thinking this is an overreaction,” Fin surmised.  Correctly.  

“Look, I’m just chasing a goose for the moment.  But I do know the kid was bonded when we arrested him yesterday but he wasn't before that, and the Lieu confirmed that his victim was also bonded.”

“She say it was him?”

“No,” Sonny admitted as they rounded the stairwell, “Said it was her boyfriend.  That being said-”

“-there’s no way a teenage girl wants to admit that her soulmate is the guy who just roughed her up and raped her.”

“Exactly. And now they're telling us that he's never had a violent bone in his body before the other day. Where did all of that come from, if not from the bond that I'm pretty sure started that night?”

Fin seemed to think about that a little longer.

So did Sonny.

“We’ll have to bring her in,” he said, “Get her to ‘fess up.  Or him, whoever folds first.”

“Yeah.”

“Doctors are going to have to get involved.”  

“Yeah.”

“Barba’s going to turn into one giant stomach ulcer.”

Sonny snorted.  “Yeah, probably.”

 

**…**

 

Rafael was on his sixth cup of coffee for the day but only his second meal, meaning that he was too caffeinated to eat much of anything and his meager dinner sat untouched on the corner of his desk.  Rain pounded heavily on the window and Carmen had left hours ago, gently suggesting he make it an early night just in case the roads got bad; and of course by that she meant being home before midnight.  Rather than dignify her suggestion with a response he wished her a good night and assured her he would see her in the morning.  

To think, all his previous assistants thought he was a monster.  

All thirteen of them. 

But not Carmen.  

Not many of his colleagues in Manhattan, actually.  It was a nice change.  Rafael’s personality wasn't such that he made instant friends but what he'd cultivated there was good.  It was meaningful.  He had a wealth of mutual respect and had the pleasure of working with people who cared as much as he did, even if he had a hard time demonstrating it in the same way.  

“Not many people stuck behind a desk at eight o'clock in the evening look as happy about it as you do.” 

He also had Carisi.  

A relationship that was as baffling to him as it was thrilling. 

Especially thrilling tonight, when Carisi was slick with rain and leaning on his doorframe, looking at Rafael like he was dying of thirst. 

“Not many people have my stamina, Detective,” he said darkly, the comment rolling easily off his tongue, and watched as it landed.  Rafael was rewarded with blooms of vivid color high on Carisi's cheekbones.  Beautiful.  He collected them like wildflowers and saved them to admire later.  “Something I can help you with?  I don't accept paperwork after business hours.” 

“Not even love letters?”

What?

The color hadn't left Carisi's face but he did look amused now, as though he were able to set aside his obvious interest in favor of having the upper hand over Rafael.  If even for a moment.  Rafael hoped he savored it because it was doomed to be fleeting. 

He grimaced.  

Lovingly, if there was such a thing.

“Especially love letters.  Leave them on my assistant’s desk and she'll dispose of them in the morning.”

Carisi snorted - lovingly, Rafael liked to believe - and left his place at the door to come closer.  His clear eyes were painfully blue and his white shirt and slim black tie were plastered to his chest from coming in out of the rain.  He was focused so intently on Rafael that the attorney was suddenly concerned he might combust. 

Was tonight the night?

The night Carisi finally submitted?

Succumbed?

Surrendered. 

_ Finally.   _

But Rafael’s detective had stamina, too, because when he came to stand by his desk it wasn't with the intention of wrapping Rafael’s coincidentally baby blue tie around his fist and hauling him forward.  Until their lips met.  Until Rafael couldn't even remember his name.  When Carisi stood so close it was to give him something.  He stuck a slender hand into his jacket and brought Rafael’s gift back out.  Rafael strained to see what it was before Carisi tossed a small evidence bag onto the desk.  Inside was a folded piece of plain ruled paper, writing barely noticeable on the inside.  

Right. 

Love letters. 

Rafael arched a brow and Carisi nodded in return, telling him wordlessly that it was safe to touch.  

“It's been processed already.  Just wanted you to have a heads-up.”

That was always a good sign. 

His detective  _ warning  _ him. 

He took the paper from the bag and unfolded it, giving it a quick glance before a smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. 

“Your handwriting has improved,” he snarked and Carisi rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest.    Rafael couldn't help but follow the movement while grinding out, “You're dripping on my carpet.”

It was a fairly innocuous comment - meant to refer to the fact that he was soaked to the bone - but Carisi still managed to look as affected as though Rafael had dropped to his knees.  

Maybe this needed to end soon. 

“Shaw?” Rafael asked, directing them both out of their heads before something finally snapped and Rafael died happy, and Carisi nodded.  “Executed the search warrant on his place earlier today, turned up that.  Plus thirty more, more or less in the same vein.  All of them increasing in intensity, until that one.”

He scanned the page and noted the date - the day of the assault.  

“ _ You're mine, _ ” Rafael read aloud, for seemingly no reason whatsoever.  “ _ I know it, I feel it and now you will too.  I'll show you.  I'll prove that you belong to me. _ ”

Rafael grimaced.  

Not proof, but pretty close. 

At least probable cause for a subpoena to call in the professionals. 

“ _ I've known for months but tonight I'll know for sure.  We'll both know.  I love you, _ ” Rafael finished and sighed, dejected, thoughts already turning to the legal clusterfuck in front of him until Carisi's hand slammed onto the desk next to his and the lanky detective doubled over.  

“Carisi?” Rafael ventured but didn't get a reply.  The man’s eyes were wide and his breathing was fast, so fast that it scared him.  “Carisi!”

He looked like he was in pain. 

Rafael jumped out of his chair and stepped close, close enough to smell the vaguely sweet scent of Carisi’s cologne, and then it hit him. 

He never saw it coming.  


	3. What Rafael Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued interest in this story. This chapter was a little shorter than the rest because it didn't quite fit with what came after so it's its own chapter now and you're all getting an update a little earlier than planned. Hurray! Thanks for all your comments and kudos. <3
> 
>  
> 
> (p.s. - I found some of you on Tumblr and it's been a blast! Hello!)

 

 

**Chapter Three : What Rafael Feels**

 

 

It started in his chest and rippled outward, getting stronger with each pass instead of weaker. 

His heart raced.

His lungs heaved.

The rest of the world dropped away and then he was gone.

Rafael felt warmth and pain and pleasure in measures so substantial and so unrelenting that it bowled him over, his vision darkening at the edges.  He disappeared into it, lost himself as his heart swelled and his cock grew heavy and full with that sweet-smelling cologne still in his nose.  His skin throbbed and ached, begging for touch he wasn’t sure he could handle but wanted anyway.  

He wasn’t alone.  

Beneath his skin was a living entity, something quick and bright and warm.  Something perfect.  It was sustaining him, he realized, as the rest of his body seemed to riot in shock.  It was the sunrise after an endlessly pitch black night.  It was a blue sky after a hurricane and and it was so devastatingly beautiful that it broke his heart when he recognized it.

_ Sonny.  _

Sonny was in every vein and ventricle, every chamber and cell and synapse.  Every breath he pulled into his lungs and every wretched sigh he breathed out.  Rafael wasn’t sure he was even there anymore, because the ugliness he’d always associated with himself was gone now.  Sonny shimmered out from his skin and for the first time in his life, everything made perfect sense.  Every victory, every heartbreak, every defeat and every departure he'd ever made.  It was all to bring him here, to bring him to Sonny.

Sonny was made for him.

The flip side of that was that he was made for Sonny, which struck him as patently ridiculous.  So ridiculous that it didn’t warrant additional thought, particularly not while his skin was barely able to contain him but then the pain receded and then there was only ecstatic relief.  Sonny was his.  How had he gotten so lucky?  Blood roared in his ears but it was sweeter than a symphony because the world was new again.  The pit of loneliness in his chest was full to bursting because he wasn’t alone anymore.  Never would be again.  Tears burned the backs of his eyes and a startled laugh tore from his throat.  

_ It was always going to be this,  _ Rafael marveled. 

_ It was always going to be you.  _

 

**…**

 

Rafael came back to life. 

Slowly and all at once. 

It was with unintelligible whispers against his ear and the feeling of a hand splayed between his shoulder blades, the other covering the right side of his chest.  Protective.  Soothing.  Long, pale, slender fingers that he recognized before even looking at them.  Sonny was with him, was comforting him as their moment faded.  Sonny with his forehead rested against Rafael’s head, just above his ear.  Lips brushing the skin lightly enough to make him shiver as he spoke.  

“You're okay,” Sonny murmured in a voice gone hoarse, “You're alright, I'm here.  I've got you.”

Sonny was a steady beat in his chest, running parallel to his own. 

He was dazed. 

How had he gotten so lucky?

Lips just barely kissed the tender skin behind his ear and he shuddered because he could feel his own heartbeat tick up as well as Sonny’s, affected even by something as innocent as a gentle graze of their skin.  Affected enough to brave more.  Another kiss, just at his hairline.  Rafael barely avoided moaning when Sonny pressed an open-mouth kiss on curve of his jaw.  The earnestness of the gesture sent him reeling because there was no part of him that deserved the feeling of Sonny’s lips on his skin. 

But that was the universe’s mistake, not his.  

And there was nothing they could do about it now. 

Rafael turned his head so that Sonny’s next kiss fell on the corner of his mouth and that seemed to break the tentative spell between them, because Sonny groaned from the tips of his toes and took Rafael’s face in both his hands.  Like Rafael would turn away if he didn't.  As if he could have.  As if he would ever want to.  Because Rafael could feel himself in Sonny’s chest, too.  Hammering away while Sonny looked down at Rafael through lust-blown blue eyes.  

Their first kiss was everything it always should have been. 

It was intense and biting and felt more like a competition than a kiss, Sonny taking from him everything Rafael would gladly have given him willingly.  Every lick, every sigh, every graze of his teeth on Sonny’s bottom lip. His body hummed and throbbed with every taste because Sonny was perfect.  Perfect to the taste, perfect to the touch with his lean sinew and narrow hips and warm skin.   Rafael couldn't breathe with Sonny so close, trying so hard to burn them both to the ground.  The intense feeling of  _ right  _ quickly transformed into a feeling of  _ more _ , because Sonny was hard against his hip and damp against his hands and making sounds like Rafael was the most delicious thing to ever pass his lips.  

“Rafi,” he gasped finally, not even willing to pull far enough away to fully separate their mouths, “Go somewhere with me.”

He smirked breathlessly.  

“Already trying to get me out of here, Detective?” he teased, knowing full well now that he would do anything Sonny asked of him.

“What?  No!  I mean, yes.  It doesn’t have to be home or anything.  Just let me take you to dinner.  Or a drink or a walk around the block.  Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

Sonny nodded seriously, expression purposefully endearing.  Like he was trying to hide the fact that he clearly  _ did  _ want to take Rafael home or that his eyes weren’t still darting to admire Rafael’s mouth.  Instead he schooled his features into one of earnest impatience and Rafael fell all over again.

There he was.

His detective.

So eager.

Like Rafael was the real catch and he was the one punching way above his weight.  If only Sonny could see himself now, then he'd know better.  He'd know that he was gorgeous and open and welcoming while Rafael was old and bitter and closed-off, undeserving of the love in Sonny’s eyes.   Love that Rafael hadn't noticed before…

Before.  

He hadn’t noticed it before.

Before they bonded.  

Oh, God.

_ No _ . 

Rafael felt the endorphins humming in his bloodstream evaporate in an instant, leaving him cold and angry.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  He was never supposed to be bonded.  Certainly not to Sonny, because now he had to live with the knowledge that the naked emotion in his detective’s eyes wasn’t there before the moment the two of them had been bound together.  That he didn’t feel so strongly about Rafael before their heartbeats had mirrored themselves in each other’s chests.  The realization felt like a wound, gaping and raw, and Sonny seemed to flinch in reaction, although his expression radiated only confusion.

“What?” he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I need to go,” Rafael said, stepping away and trying to pretend that Sonny didn’t look like he’d just been sucker punched.  “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

The Rafael of ten minutes ago would have had the wherewithal to tell Sonny to leave - if with an obviously playful smirk - but now all he could think of was an escape route.  First out of Sonny’s arms, and then from the room.  Then the building.  The more space the better because this wasn't fair.  This, Sonny, wasn't supposed to be taken from him this way.  They were supposed to be a beginning.  Sonny was supposed to be the best part of his day, the best part of his life.  Rafael had only ever done what he thought was the right thing - sometimes selfishly, admittedly - but that was no reason for this to have happened to him.  He didn’t deserve it.

“Rafi-” Sonny started, so hurt that it felt like a physical blow to Rafael’s sternum, but Rafael didn't let him finish.  Couldn’t possibly because hearing another word might very well have killed him.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated and stepped away, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.  Didn’t bother to grab his briefcase or any files at all because it would have taken him too long to collect and he really needed to leave.  “I'm sorry.  Just lock the door behind you.  I'll see you tomorr… I'll see you.”

He practically ran out the door and down the hallway, feeling Sonny’s agony the whole way.  

 

**…**

 

Sonny let him leave.  

Even if it hurt, even if everything in him was screaming for him to follow.   He repressed those thoughts, though, because they were both aware of the fact that no meant no.  He wasn’t Christian Shaw.  He wasn’t going to try and force Rafi to stick around, even if his soulmate seemed scared, seemed like he was in pain.  It was bad enough that Shaw’s possessive rambling had been what sparked their moment - Sonny wasn’t about to let the similarities go any further.  

If he was being honest, that really burned him up.

The best moment of Sonny’s life had come about because of an obsessed kid’s love letter.  It still meant something because the bond wouldn’t have happened if Rafi hadn’t meant it, but when Sonny had first let himself fall into the hole of imagining the haughty ADA as his soulmate it was nothing like this.  It wasn’t wrapped up in a frigging case.  It was because they’d finally broken formation and reached for each other, had said words that were only theirs.  But they didn’t get that lucky and now his soulmate was gone because something about tonight had scared him.  Had sent him running.  He could wait.  He'd waited for Barba this long and a bond was a pretty radical change so he would give him time.  Would give him space, until he felt comfortable enough to come back around.  Then they could talk about whatever it was that spooked him so much.  

So Sonny did the only thing he knew to do.

He picked up a mostly untouched sandwich from the floor where it had gotten knocked off the desk and threw it away.  He swept the errant crumbs from the desktop and closed the files Rafi had been working on before Sonny walked in, locking them away in an alphabetized drawer where he could find them easily the next morning.  His time shadowing had served him well in this area, because now Sonny knew exactly how the ADA closed up shop for the day.  After watching it so many times he was able to imitate it without so much as a second thought and with the knowledge that the man himself would approve.

Sonny felt good, helping this way.  

A little bit of love went into every gesture and he liked to think Rafi would see that when he came back in the morning.  The day-old brewed coffee got dumped, the filter emptied, the pot washed and dried and put back into place.  He even went so far as to set up the next brew and put it on a timer, so Rafi would walk into the office the next morning and be greeted by the smell of fresh coffee.  In the realm of love languages, Rafael Barba’s was coffee.  And his damn phone, but there was nothing Sonny could do about that one.

So he headed for the door, eyes unconsciously flitting back to the desk.  

Where everything started, years ago now.

Where he tasted his soulmate for the first time, just a few minutes ago.

Where his whole life changed.

Maybe even where his whole life started.

Sonny turned off the lights and locked the door behind him.

 


	4. What Sonny Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny feels, Rafael feels too much, and they end up in the same room anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the support for this story. It's really keeping me motivated. <3

**Chapter Four : What Sonny Feels**

  
  


Sonny slept like shit.

He tossed and turned and sweated through his sheets, humidity clinging to his skin even after he’d changed out of his wet clothes and fallen into bed.  All night long he could feel Rafi’s heart in his chest.  Wild, unsteady.  Sonny wanted to call him, text him, anything to find out what he was doing.  He guessed drinking and stressing, which would have been the ADA’s gold medals had they been Olympic events.  It was easy to imagine him at a dark bar, where he was anonymous, where he would be left alone to panic.  Sonny was willing to bet that was exactly what he was doing - until around two-thirty in the morning, anyway.  Then the man’s heartbeat fell slow and rhythmic.  It was only then that Sonny was able to relax, knowing that he was at least calm enough to sleep now.

That had put him up to a whopping three hours.

He’d done worse - with night school and a full time job it was hard not to - but he sure as hell could have used more.  

Especially with the day he’d had, logging evidence and schlepping all over Manhattan, talking to Heather Maytorena’s friends.  Especially with Heather Maytorena herself sitting in front of him, shifting in her chair like she was considering making a run for the door.  The three of them were in the conference room - the nicer one, used for discussions instead of interrogations.  It didn’t seem to help much, because she gravitated toward Rollins subconsciously anyway and kept her eyes peeled for his movements.  

Sonny didn’t blame her.  

Rollins had been the first friendly face, the first protective touch, since her ordeal and Sonny was the guy who had spent that time cuddling up to her attacker, downplaying the situation and trying to play the frat bro card.  If it looked like she was going to clam up with him in the room he had no problem bailing - anything that would make this go a little easier for her.

“How are you holding up?” Rollins asked, putting a small cup of coffee in front of Heather that she didn't seem all that interested in. 

“Fine,” the girl answered, hugging her leather varsity jacket a little closer.  The name on the back wasn't hers - the boyfriend, he knew now after talking with him that afternoon.

“I hope you're talking to someone,” Rollins suggested gently.  Sonny forgot sometimes how soft and caring Rollins could be when the situation called for it.  “Your mom?  A friend?”

“My big sister, the girl who drove me here, she’s helping,” Heather replied and took a deep breath.  

“That's great,” Sonny added, “I’m glad to hear that you've got people who take care of you.”

Heather nodded.  

“Listen, Heather, we asked you back because we had some more questions if you feel up to it,” Rollins said.

“What kinds of questions?”

“Just, getting a better handle on what happened to you.  On how this started,” she expanded and the girl nodded. “Great.  So, how long have you known Christian Shaw?”

“I don't know him,” she said quickly, emphatically.  “He used to bring stuff by the store.  Deliveries and stuff.  That doesn’t mean I knew him.”

“Is that how you met?”

“Yeah.  I was usually the one working about the time he would go by so I would have to sign for stuff when my boss wasn’t there,” Heather answered, looking cagey.  Sonny wanted to tell her that she hadn’t done anything wrong but didn’t think it would go over well.

“How long ago did he make that first delivery?”

“A few months ago.”

“And did he talk to you then?”

“I mean, yeah.  Sort of.  It was just stupid stuff, like  _ hey  _ and  _ what’s your name  _ and  _ why are you so pretty _ ?”  She shuddered.  “I always told him I had a boyfriend.  I never wanted any of that stuff he told me.”

“Did he come by a lot?”

“Once a week at first,” she admitted, “More after that.  He came outside of his normal day, sometimes out of uniform.  He got, uh… he got pretty intense recently.  A few times I would see him in my neighborhood, just standing somewhere.  I know I didn’t tell him where I lived so he must have followed me.”

“Did you ever contact the police?” Rollins asked.

Heather scoffed.  “And say what?  This white boy is standing there, doing nothing, and it freaks me out?  Hell no.  And why would I?  He never did nothing until… until he-”

Her voice broke.

“Until he came in two nights ago and ruined my life, okay?  Until he locked us in there and took what wasn’t even his like he owned me.”  

She accepted a tissue from Sonny when he offered it and pressed it against her eyes for a second before crumbling it up in her hand and taking a deep breath.  

“Heather, did he ever write you any notes?  Letters?” Sonny asked gently.  

“What?  No.”

He believed her.  She looked genuinely confused.

“We found letters in his room,” he told her, pulling the now familiar piece of paper in a plastic bag from his jacket pocket.  He resisted the urge to keep it to himself despite the fact that it was evidence - it didn’t matter that the words on that paper had been the proclamation that bound him to Rafael Barba.  But it did, really.  Logic escaped him.  It was a struggle to place the bag in front of her and watch her eyes narrow in distaste.  It felt personal.

Christ, this was ridiculous.

“Have you seen that before?” he asked and watched her scan her eyes over the few lines visible through the plastic. 

“No.”

“What does that sound like to you, Heather?” Rollins asked with a knowing grimace.  

The girl looked up and he could just decipher the sparks of panic coming in at the edges.  She may not have seen it before that moment, may never have laid eyes on that scrap of paper before then, but the words themselves were pretty damning on their own.  It wasn’t hard to see where the next questions were going to be headed and Sonny watched as steel crept into her spine.

“It sounds pathetic to me,” she replied harshly.  “Do I have to see that right now?”

“Heather…”

“No.”

“Heather,” Rollins tries, “You told my lieutenant and I two days ago, at the hospital, that you were bonded.  You remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Christian is too,” Sonny tells her, implores her, because this doesn’t have to be the life sentence she’s making it out to be.  He knows it feels like it - she can feel the entirety of their lives stretching out in front of her, side by side - but it was a different world now and she would find  away to live with this.  

“Is he?” she asked coolly.  “What a coincidence.”

 

**…**

 

Rafael watched on the other side of the glass, lips pursed.

He hadn’t meant to show up here, hadn’t planned to, but found himself pulled in this direction anyway.  He’d even managed to hold off for most of the day.  It was his office, he told himself.  His office that didn’t feel like just his anymore.  It was the fact that Sonny had organized his files and locked up and set his coffee pot to brew in the fifteen minutes before he walked in.  Like he knew Rafael would be tired the next morning and might not want to make a pot himself.  His desk.  It was his goddamn desk and the knowledge that the last time he’d sat behind it, Sonny had shown up with the same letter that Heather Maytorena was now refusing to look at it.  He didn’t know how to feel about that.  

Anger felt misplaced, but God did it burn anyway.

It felt like a rejection of their moment.

Like what happened between them was so horrible she refused to look at it, acknowledge it, despite the fact that there was no way she knew anything about it.  All she saw was her rapist’s admission of guilt.  

Ridiculous.

If anyone rejected their moment it was him, running out in a fit of hysterics that still haven’t gone away.  Desperation sunk its claws in a little deeper every time he turned his attention to the right side of his chest and felt Sonny’s heartbeat there, next to his.  It felt like magic.  It hurt.  Rafael was fighting his nature - arguably, his destiny - and it sure as hell felt like it because he was a storm of ecstasy and muted terror in a three thousand-dollar suit, pretending he had everything under control.

“You look like hell.”

Rafael turned, attention drawn away from the window and the man on the other side of it.  Olivia was watching him with an amused smile, thinking she was ribbing him about too much alcohol and not enough sleep.  A long night, an inability to keep track of time.  The usual suspects behind the dark circles under his eyes and the disenchanted scowl on his face.

If only.

“Charming, Lieutenant.  Have you been talking with my mother?”

She shook her head, dark hair falling in waves to her shoulders.  Her eyes were bright, alert.   _ Someone  _ looked well-rested at least.

She deadpanned, “Actually, no.  We won’t do our monthly brunch until next week.”

He whipped around, horrified.  

Her eyes sparkled and the corner of her mouth twisted up in a smirk.

Joking.

She was joking.

“That’s not funny,” he insisted and let his breathing return to normal.

Olivia scoffed and came to stand next to him, watching her two detectives through the one-way glass.  Ms. Maytorena had wrapped her arms around her chest now, no longer leaning toward Detective Rollins for support.  Now she was looking at both of the detectives with outright anger.  Perhaps some fear.  Rafael didn’t blame her.  From her side of the table, they looked like the faces of two people who were about to tear her life apart to an extent that she wouldn’t be able to repair it.

“Did Carisi tell you?”

His stomach dropped at Liv’s words - their implication.

“Tell me what?”

“The two of them may be bonded,” she replied and he exhaled a little.

“Yes, he spoke with me the morning you arrested him,” he said dismissively and realized his mistake just a second too late.  Olivia was looking at him with outright shock, mouth open and glasses off.  

“Carisi told you about his hunch?  He didn’t even tell me until yesterday.”

Rafael shrugged.

“He felt it may be relevant.”

“And you listened?”

“Sonny has proved himself more than capable over the last two years,” Rafael replied easily.  It wasn’t a lie.  “Disbelieving him would only have lead to more work in the long run.”

“And you’re calling him Sonny now?”

Christ.

He hadn’t even realized.

He’d never once called Sonny - damn it,  _ Carisi  _ \- by his desired nickname, even at the height of their flirtation.  Yet another first he’d lost to this god-awful bond.

“His persistence must be wearing me down,” he finally said and she seemed willing to let it go.  For now, at least.

“Has she admitted it yet?” Olivia asked, turning her attention back to their actual jobs.

“Getting there,” Rafael replied, unable to completely draw his eyes from Sonny’s profile.  He looked tired, too.  “She’s figured out that they’re onto her, at least.  Has Christian Shaw said anything?”

“It’s been the silent treatment.  All day every day since arraignment, while the members of his church and some of his mother’s medical staff try to get bail put together,” she told him. 

“Sound legal advice.  It’s good to know his counsel isn’t entirely useless,” he muttered.  “Shaw tried yelling about me ‘keeping him from her’ in the middle of arraignment.”

Olivia looked surprised.  “He got bail at all after that?”

“Anything more than what he got would have been punitive,” Rafael said dismissively.  “Chadwick also issued a restraining order.  They’ll have to be separated permanently, of course.  Jail time will handle it initially but he won’t be in forever.”

“She’ll make it work,” Liv pointed out, nodding at the teenager in the next room.  “I mean, look at her.  She’s mad as hell.  There’s not going to be any cowering out of her, and there shouldn’t be.”

“Do you adjust?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“Do you adjust?” he repeated, looking over at her kindly.  “To not being with him?”

She responded with a warm smile.

Olivia Benson was bonded already, for over a decade now.  Her former partner had retired six years before but she could still feel his heart in her chest, beating alongside hers.  Rafael didn’t know the last time they’d seen each other but he knew it had been a while.  It was an open secret around 1PP - not discussed but known all the same.  Olivia Benson, the SVU detective bonded to her married partner.  Her married partner who took his vows seriously and stayed with his wife and their children despite knowing his soulmate was at the desk across from him.

“You do,” she answered, although not without hesitation.  “It takes time and effort, but you do adjust.  You learn.”

He nodded, looking at Sonny.

Sonny would adjust.

“She’ll be okay, Rafael,” she said, comforting him for an assumed pain that he didn’t have.  

Not for Ms. Maytorena, anyway.  

“I think you and I both know at this point that a heartbeat doesn’t guarantee you a happily ever after  in this world,” he said, the words an astringent on his tongue.  

“No,” she admitted softly, “But nothing does.  Not really.  And it doesn’t mean you can’t make your own.”

Rafael nodded.

His eyes drift back, admiring.  Worshipping.  The slim forearms and narrow waist, the earnest sound of his voice trying to comfort a victim who did not want to be comforted.  He watched, catching the glint of silver at Sonny’s temples.  It fit.  Sonny was made of precious metal - strong, beautiful, built to last.  Built to reshape and remake himself into the masterpiece Rafael was looking at now with cavernous longing that never seemed to ease or end.  The man in front of him would only ever rebuild.  

And why did that hurt so much?  

Sonny’s hand drifted up, rested on his right breast for a second before he smoothed his tie to cover the motion.

 

**…**

 

“Heather…”

“No!  No, you don’t get to do this to me,” she insisted and pushed the chair back from the table to stand and pace.  

The tears had started in earnest now and Sonny felt like hanging his head in shame.  This was the worst part.  The re-victimizing that they tried so hard to avoid but was sometimes necessary. 

“Heather, we talked to your friends this morning,” he said gently.  “They didn’t know anything about you being bonded.  And they were sure you would have told them something like that.  Your boyfriend seemed pretty surprised, too.”

She looked at him through baleful, tear-drenched eyes.

“I didn’t… I  _ can’t _ …”

“This isn’t fifty years ago,” Rollins insisted from her seat at the table a few feet away, “No court is going to force you to stay with him, or just let him walk.  What he did to you was rape.  It was forced on you and it doesn’t matter if you’re bonded because  _ you didn’t want it _ .  That’s what matters.”

“Until you get a bunch of old people on the jury who think what he did to me is  _ natural _ ,” she spit back, “Or that it’s his  _ right _ .  And then he’s free to go like nothing ever happened.  He can come back for me.”

“He’s already got a restraining order out on him,” Sonny tried to assure her.  “He can’t come anywhere near you.”

She scoffed. 

“You cops.  You think a piece of paper makes a difference.”

Sadly, he knew better.

“No, Heather, we don’t.  But it does give us a reason to put him back in jail at a moment’s notice if we catch him anywhere near you.  It means we can add charges, keep him in jail longer,” he told her frankly.  “Every officer in this precinct knows his face, and they’re here for you.  We all are.  Everyone here is just a phone call away.”

Strangely, she looked like she might believe him.

She took a deep, shaky breath and looked at Rollins with a watery grimace.

“Christian Shaw is my soulmate.”

Rollins nodded with grim understanding.

Sonny left not long after.

Because Rollins had this, and because Heather was more comfortable with her anyway.  He took Christian Shaw’s letter with him and barely avoided putting it in his pocket again.  It was evidence.  It needed to be in lock-up, not under his pillow.  If he wasn’t so tired he might even find it in him to be ashamed of himself but he would have needed at least five hours for that.  As is he was due to punch out and pass out on his couch with a cold sandwich on the coffee table in front of him.

“Carisi,” he heard and spun to find his boss regarding him with grudging respect.  “Good job in there.  Your hunch paid off.”

“Good for me, I guess,” he said with a shrug.  “Not so good for her.”

“She’ll be alright,” the lieutenant assured him.  “Go ahead and get out of here.  You look exhausted.”

“Long night,” he replied noncommittally but was grateful anyway.  He felt a twinge on his sternum and rubbed at it absently as he reached for his jacket and his keys.  “But hey, thanks, Lieu.  I’m going to get out of here.”

“Get some sleep,” she ordered warmly.  “You don’t look so great.  There’s something in the water, I guess.”

“Sorry?”

“You and Barba,” she responded, nodding over her shoulder and Sonny is embarrassed that it took so long to notice the man standing behind her.  At the observation window, probably watching him all this time.  The odd aches under his ribs suddenly made much more sense.

“Yeah,” he replied absently, eyes on Rafael.  “Something in the water.”

She clapped his shoulder lightly on the way back to her office and then she was gone, leaving the two of them alone.  Alone and bonded and separated.  Nothing between them but gleaming tile floor and the weight of Rafael’s misery in his chest.  

Sonny wished it didn’t hurt when Rafael looked at him.

Sonny wished Rafael didn’t hurt at all.

“Rafi,” he said simply.  A greeting.  An acknowledgment.  

That twinge again.

“I think you mispronounced  _ counselor _ ,” he said pointedly and holy crap he’d rather Rafael had just smacked him instead.  

“Really?” he asked incredulously.

The other man must have been able to read the raw anger on his face because he walked forward, closer, shaking his head.

“No, just… just not here.”

Not here?  Not here what?

“You don’t call me by my name here,” he murmured in clarification.  “I’ve already made that mistake once today.  Calling you Sonny in front of Benson.”

“But that’s-”

Oh.

He was right.

Rafi never used to call him that.

Nor, he realized with a jolt, had he ever referred to Barba as  _ Rafi _ .  Not before last night, anyway.  He’d never even noticed.  He was suddenly nervous about how often he’d made that mistake without catching it.

“Have a nice night, Carisi,” Rafael said, working his mouth around the syllables like they felt foreign to him and stepping away.  

“Ra- _ Counselor, _ ” he said and Rafael turned, looking very much like he didn’t want to.  Like he was afraid to.  “Can I walk you out?”

Rafael hesitated but it wasn’t for long.  Maybe a second or two before he nodded and waited for Sonny to get his stuff and join him.  They walked shoulder to shoulder, closer than usual, certainly closer that Rafael would ever have allowed before last night but Sonny couldn’t bear to correct the mistake.  To move away, even an inch.  There was something singing in his blood, something heady and sharp that has lingered long after their moment.  It’s stronger with Rafael close.  He wanted it to stay strong.  Wanted it to stay with him longer than it would take him to walk Rafi to a cab.

“You alright?” Sonny finally asked as the elevator doors closed them in.

Rafael scoffed.

“Sure,” he replied but Sonny could have sworn that he moved a little closer.  Rafael’s gaze was softer as he turned it on Sonny’s face.  “How are you?”

“Tired,” he replied honestly.  “I was up most of the night.”

“My fault, I suppose.”

“Indirectly, maybe,” he assured him as the elevator landed and turned them loose.  Rafael still didn’t move away.  They headed for the front door of the precinct, still side by side, and their hands brushed as they walk.  Sonny felt a thrill at the small amount of contact, felt his blood heat, but there was that pang again.  Just behind the third rib on his right side.  

“Christ, Rafi,” he said suddenly as they descended the steps.  Rafael turned, surprised, but didn’t tell him again to use his title.  

“What?  What is it?”

“Would you please talk to me?” he pleaded, crossing his arms over his chest.  “I can… I can feel it, how much it hurts you to look at me.  To touch me.  Like it fucking kills you and I don’t know why.”

He met Rafael’s warm green eyes, widened in surprise.  

“Did I misjudge something here?” he asked, gesturing between them.  “Was I, was this not something you wanted?  Because up until last night I thought we were working our way there.”

“Sonny-”

“Is there someone else?” he asked suddenly and his throat constricted because he hadn’t even thought of that until the words were spilling out of his mouth.

“What?!”

“Is there someone else, Rafael?” he asked seriously and felt himself bracing against it.  “Is that why you’re taking all this so badly?  Because you’re already seeing someone?”

Rafael laughed.

That pissed him off more.

“Are you serious right now?” he asked, incensed.  “You know, what?  Fine.  Make fun of me.  I really thought we were past that now but I guess not.”

He tried to walk off, maybe to the nearest bar to drink away the mad, but Rafael caught his hand and pulled him back.  Maybe it was wishful thinking but Sonny was pretty sure there was affection in his eyes.

“Come to dinner with me, Sonny.”

Sonny blinked.

“What?” he asked, numb.  

"Dinner.  Something people have when they're not able to sustain themselves on caffeine and liquor alone."

He frowned.

“Aren’t we fighting?”

“No,  _ you’re  _ fighting,” Rafael said with a small smile.  “I’m listening to you have a one-sided argument without corroborating evidence.”

Sonny smirked, a little embarrassed now that some of the fight was leaving him.

"Yeah, well," he replied, "I guess I jumped the gun a little."

“So?” he asked, giving up the opportunity to give Sonny hell over his overreaction.  “Dinner?”

"Yeah.  Yeah, of course."

Rafael gave a wan smile and told him that he already had an Uber waiting.  He didn’t care about the restaurant so long as they had a bar.  Go figure, although that didn’t bode well for Sonny.  Still, optimism was his default setting.  Especially with Rafael next to him, temporarily pain-free and willing to share a meal.

This was good, he thought to himself as they climbed in the back of a black Honda SUV and greeted the driver.  

Maybe by the end of the night Sonny would have some answers.


	5. What Sonny Learns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael and Sonny get dinner. Then Sonny gets a little insight into his soulmate's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this. This fandom really is a great place and I love talking with all of you. <3

_**Chapter Five : What Sonny Learns** _

  


Sonny didn’t know what he expected.

Not really.

He expected some nondescript upscale restaurant clear on the other side of Manhattan, where they wouldn’t be recognized and where Barba could run up a bar tab higher than Sonny’s phone bill without anyone batting an eye.  Sonny was only partly right.  He was on the other side of Manhattan, but it was a hole in the wall kind of place that advertised Cuban food from scratch.  It was illuminated mainly by the neon lights in the window and some dim fluorescents overhead, casting the dining room in a warm red glow cut with gold as the brighter lights flickered.

And Sonny might not have been recognized - although he did stick out like a very tall, very blond sore thumb - but Rafael was.  He was greeted warmly by the woman behind the register by name, by his _first_ name, and she rattled off a string of Spanish that must have translated to _sit wherever you want_ because the ADA took them straight to the back of the room, in a worn black vinyl booth that shielded them from the rest of the restaurant.  Not that anyone was looking at the two of them - everyone was pretty much minding their own business, picking at food that smelled spicy as hell.

Sonny felt like this was another good sign.  

This felt… personal.  They knew Rafi here.  He was comfortable enough for them to know his name.  It was even linked a little bit with his identity because Rafael himself was Cuban.  He wasn't trying to hide Sonny.  Or himself, for that matter.  Maybe they were getting somewhere.  

A waitress around Bella’s age came and asked what they wanted to drink and Rafael went right ahead and felt comfortable ordering for both of them, in Spanish.  Without warning.  Where Sonny could hear the gentle roll of his _r_ and the quick taps of his tongue against the barrier of his teeth and Christ, maybe Sonny was still in frigging high school because another language shouldn't be affecting him like this.  It's not like he'd never heard Spanish before.  He just hadn’t heard Rafael speak Spanish… which might have been a good thing because the heat in his face would have betrayed his thoughts instantly, just like it was probably doing now.  Rollins would have had a field day and he wasn’t ready to have that conversation.  Not yet, anyway.    

“What did you order me?” he asked as the girl left, not even a little perturbed that he didn’t get to choose his meal for himself.  

“A grilled cheese,” Rafael said with a smirk and Sonny scoffed at the condescension.  

He didn’t mind, not really.  

Not with Rafael’s self-satisfied grin and loosened tie, looking very much like the arrogant ADA he’d fallen for almost a year ago.  Sonny let himself admire the view as the waitress brought back a glass of water for him and a glass of scotch for Rafael, pausing momentarily to ask him how he’d been in accented English.  Rafael replied in her native language, like he enjoyed it.  Like he didn’t get to very often.  The man across from him appeared every bit in his element - speaking Spanish, smiling, ordering without ever having looked at the menu.  He seemed… comfortable.  Relaxed.  It was a good look on him, one that Sonny suddenly wished he’d seen more often.

“They like you here,” Sonny pointed out once the waitress had gone again.  

“No, they like my mother,” Rafael replied with an easy grin.  “They tolerate me so she’ll keep coming.”

Sonny didn’t think that was it at all but let the comment pass anyway, enjoying this small morsel of personal information.  It had been occurring to him in the last few months that he didn’t know much about Rafael’s life.  He knew about a very, _very_ blunt mother.  He knew about a grandmother who had passed a few years ago.  He knew he was a scholarship kid at Harvard and knew that Rafael never, ever talked about his father.  Sonny had long suspected that his favorite color was purple.  Sonny had also long suspected that he had a birthday in the fall since that was when the Lieutenant made a point of taking him out.

It wasn't a lot, but it was something.

A start.

He could work with that.

“My dad has been going to the same diner every Saturday morning since before I was born.  He gets the same thing and never tips more than a dollar because that’s what he tipped forty years ago,” Sonny shared, settling into the booth.  “The only reason they tolerate him is because my mother always comes in later in the day and leaves a twenty-dollar tip for whoever took care of him that morning.”

“I’m going to do my best to pretend I’m not your father in this little analogy,” Rafael grumbled and Sonny grinned.  “No, do tell.  I love being the object of someone else’s daddy issues.”

“I’m almost certain you’re projecting there, Counselor,” he replied nonchalantly and Rafael cut his eyes in Sonny’s direction so quickly he could feel the sting of it on his skin.  Strangely, he didn’t look like he was angry.  He looked mildly shocked, like Sonny really wasn’t supposed to figure that out.  

“I forget sometimes how intuitive you are,” Rafael told him finally, taking another drink.  

“Was that a compliment?” Sonny asked, feigning disbelief.  “Pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

Rafael huffed a laugh and still his eyes were warm.  

“That’s what your dreams are made of?” he asked.  “Me complimenting you?”

“That’s how they start, anyway,” Sonny said coyly over the rim of his glass and reveled in the sight of Rafael’s eyes widening and jumping to meet his.  

“Regrettably unimaginative dreams aside, don’t get too used to it,” he warned but there was an air of playfulness.  Sonny didn’t think for a second that the man was serious, not with that spark in his painfully green eyes or the slight uptick in his heartbeat.  Maybe it was the scotch or the low lighting or the fact that it did feel better, being close.  He understood now why his mother always said being away is hard - being separated felt a little unnatural.  Like a shoe on the wrong foot or a shirt tag tickling your neck.  All Sonny knew was that being together felt like balm on an irritated wound.  Soothing.  Healing.  Uplifting, even after the day he’d had.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied softly and then he was distracted by a massive plate of what looked like chicken being placed in front of him.

They ate in comfortable silence, Sonny taking the time to be effusive with the waitress on the quality of the food which seemed to make her pretty happy even if he didn’t really know the name of the dish.  Rafael had done an great job choosing for him - he liked to think it was because the ADA had noticed his taste for garlicky food and chosen to indulge him.  More likely it was because it was something Rafael had enjoyed himself and felt like sharing, which was just as good.  

“So,” Rafael started, bringing Sonny’s attention back to the present as they finished their meal, “Your suspicion proved correct.”

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking up.

“Shaw.”

“Oh,” Sonny replied, nodding.  “Yeah, I guess it did.”

Rafael cocked an eyebrow.  

“You don’t seem pleased with yourself.  I haven’t seen you offer a single high-five.”

He was trying to be funny, trying to get Sonny a little riled up, and he appreciated the effort but still Sonny shrugged it off.

“Yeah, well.  Kinda hard to get excited about someone else’s misery,” he replied, thinking of Heather Maytorena’s tear-streaked face as he left the room.  Rafael nodded, eyes turning down.  He hadn’t thought of that, not at first, and it embarrassed him.  “But hey, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Rafael nodded absently before he commented, “I was talking to Benson earlier, and she seems pretty sure that she’ll be able to move on and have a normal life.  She said it was difficult but it was possible and Ms. Maytorena seemed capable of it.”

Sonny raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “She tells you about that kind of stuff?”

“When the mood strikes her.  And when she thinks I'll listen.”

“I’ve never heard her talk about anything like that.  You know, with her partner,” Sonny said, frowning.  “It’s a good thing she has you, I guess.  I imagine that’s pretty difficult to live through.”

“It’s like anything else,” Rafael replied.  “You learn.  You adjust.  You adapt.  And then it becomes the new normal.”

And why did it sound like he wasn't talking about Benson at all?

“That’s good.  She’s tough,” he replied casually.  

“I never placed a lot of stock in soulmates,” Rafael sighed, anything but casually.  Sonny scoffed sarcastically.  Was that supposed to be a revelation to him?

“You don’t say.”

The man raised an eyebrow in question.

“Raf, you’re a crabby bastard.  There was almost no chance you cared about that sort of thing, much less wanted it for yourself,” he explained, oddly comforted by the fact that this didn’t feel painful.  Rafael didn’t look angry.  Rafael looked… amused.  Rafael looked like he wanted to fire back and it was fucking great.

“And you’re a painfully young romantic with idealism oozing from every pore,” Rafael countered.  “ _Of course_ you’d think this kind of thing was just swell, regardless of the real-life consequences.”

He smirked.

Rafael wasn’t wrong.

Neither of them were.

“Yeah, well.  Aren’t we a pair?” Sonny asked, chest remarkably light.  

Rafael smirked again.

“We are.”

Now Sonny’s smile was absolutely for real, because Rafael sounded like he was accepting them.  They _were_ a pair.  The two of them.  Soulmates, bonded.  Rafael was made for him, and he was made for Rafael - easy as that.  

“I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Or not.

Sonny felt his back getting up even as he did his best to appear unfazed.  

“What are you talking about, Barba?” he asked even while willing himself to remain calm.  “What’s normal for us?”

“Being colleagues,” he clarified and Sonny felt his blood still for a moment.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Yelling wasn’t going to help matters.

“Barba, you and I were never colleagues.  And I’m pretty sure you know that.”

“Of course we-”

“No, you were the arrogant as fuck lawyer who liked mocking the obnoxious new guy,” he pointed out, surprisingly without bitterness.  “And then you were the arrogant as fuck lawyer who liked mocking the lowly law student, followed by the arrogant as fuck lawyer who liked encouraging the law school grad.  Finished off with the arrogant as fuck lawyer who liked eye-fucking the cop-slash-lawyer who kept showing up at your door for more verbal abuse.”

Rafael gave a dismissive scoff but it was only to hide his smile.

“Well,” he muttered into his glass, “You can’t accuse me of being inconsistent.”

“No I cannot.”

“All that aside,” Rafael tried again, “I’m sure this isn’t what either of us were planning.”

“Oh?” Sonny replied and this time it was his turn to look amused.  “How’s that?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between them with a broad hand, “This isn’t what we were planning.  I think we both know there’s a lot of difference between wanting to be with someone and wanting to fuck them.”

“Maybe for some,” Sonny allowed, shrugging before meeting Rafael’s eyes over the table.  “Not for me.”

Rafael was visibly taken aback.  

“What, counselor?” he asked, teasing.  “You think a good Catholic boy like me has a lot of meaningless flings?”

“Good Catholic boy my ass…” Rafael argued feebly and Sonny grinned.  “Nothing but long-term relationships for Dominick Carisi Jr. then, is it?  Just a handful of heartbroken boys back in Staten Island with unfortunate accents and bittersweet memories of cannoli?”

“Some girls,” Sonny allowed playfully and Rafael nodded like he expected this tidbit of information and had no problem rolling with it.  “You asking for my number, Barba?”

He scoffed in lieu of a reply, like even acknowledging the question would debase him.

It was fine, Sonny knew what he was getting at.

Like maybe he wasn’t serious about Rafael before and now he had to be because of the bond.  The idea was laughable but Sonny was able to suppress this sudden fit of giggles.  His facial expression, however, gave him away.  He couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried.  

“I’m going to give you a pass on this.  Mostly because I like you and partly because you’ve never been able to get over yourself enough to ask me any personal questions,” Sonny started and Rafael’s eyes shot up dramatically, indignant.  “You gonna argue with me right now?”

Rafael looked down again.

“Nothing is ever meaningless for me.  Not work, not pastimes, not people,” he said and wished Rafael would look back over at him to see how serious he was about that.  “If it takes my time, my energy, then it means something to me.  Even if it’s one night, because there was something about _that_ person in _that_ moment that meant something to me.”

“How romantic,” his soulmate scoffed, looking at the wall now.

“You’re not one moment to me, Rafael,” he continued softly and reached across the table to link their fingers.  “You never were.  What happened between us last night didn’t change a goddamn thing for me, other than reinforcing what I already knew.”

Rafael did look up then, surprised.  Hand shaking under Sonny’s.  For a moment the man looked like he wanted to shrug it off but resisted.  Sonny understood.  Touching felt good anyway but when it was with your person?  Your other half?  In that moment Sonny wouldn’t have moved without a threat on his life.  From the look on Rafael’s face, maybe he wouldn’t have either.  Until reality seeped back in between them and his face hardened.  

Not in anger, not at Sonny.  

He could tell the difference now between when he’d said something stupid and when Rafael had retreated behind his walls.

“And you believe in this?” he asked skeptically, clearing his throat.  “This seemingly arbitrary system of who goes with who?  How is that decided, exactly?  Strengths, weaknesses?  Genes or fate or reproductive compatibility?  Because I’m pretty sure you and I are out of luck on that front.”

Sonny frowned.  

“I don’t think it’s any of those things,” he argued.  “I think God just knows who’s good for you.  Who would help you work toward the best version of yourself.”

“God, is it?” Barba asked reproachfully and Sonny steeled himself against the jab to his faith he already knew was coming.  Their conversation had soured fairly quickly.  “Tell me, Detective, are you happy with what God lined up for you?”

“Yeah.”

That was an easy one, at least.

“Really?” he asked, not sounding like he believed Sonny at all.  “You’re happy that a talented young detective and promising lawyer still on the upswing of his career is bonded to an ADA over a decade older, who’s not likely to ever be anything other than an ADA?  Who’s in the stage of his career now when he’s more reviled than respected?”

Sonny balked.

“Who the hell are _you_ talking about?”

Even if he did flush at the words _talented_ and _promising_.  

“Don’t be coy, even if it does suit you,” Rafael said but all the venom was directed elsewhere.  “This is going to be all I ever am, Sonny.  I haven’t played politics well enough to move up and even judges have to be elected.  Too many people hate me for that to happen, and that’s even supposing the general public stays progressive enough to get behind a man in two separate minority groups.  I’m much older than you and I’m not even _nice_ for God’s sake.”

Sonny tried to butt in but Rafael wasn’t having it.  

“Raf, I-”

“No, listen,” he insisted and Sonny sat back, “I realize that your ridiculous romanticism is in the way of you seeing anything clearly, so let me help you out.  Your God didn’t do you any favors with me.”

A lightbulb flicked on in his head and all the tension bled from his body.

_Oh._

This wasn’t about not wanting Sonny.

This was about Rafael being afraid that Sonny didn’t want him back.  

Which was, on its face, laughable.  He’d spent the last several years wanting Rafael.  First his attention, then his approval.  Then his time and his thoughts and his warm, solid body hiding under three-piece suits.  Sonny wanted irritation and his temper, even, because it was just another way of communicating with Rafael.  Then, Rafael had confessed to receiving death threats and the rest of the world dropped out from under him.  All the other kinds of wants disappeared.

Sonny wanted to be the one he depended on.

Sonny wanted to be the one Rafael could have confided in, who he could have trusted to protect him when the worst of this job caught up with him.  Finding out at the same time as Rollins felt wrong because she was just a coworker to Rafael.  Sonny wasn’t.  Well, technically Sonny was, but he damn sure didn’t feel like it.  So he crowded close, until Rafael had to avoid his eyes to keep from seeing the accusation there.  From that moment on Sonny had only ever wanted his trust.

He’d wanted his love.

Frankly, Sonny had forgotten a long time ago what it felt like to _not_ want him.

Not that he could have ever convinced the man in front of him, who had just realized what kind of emotional outburst that had turned into.

Rafael knew it the minute his hand had slipped, cursing under his breath and reaching for his wallet.  He tossed a few bills onto the table - way more than their meal had cost and Sonny would be willing to bet their waitress was paying for school or something - and headed straight for the door, not even bothering to check if Sonny was behind him.  He was, of course.  Nodding at the waitress and the owner, complimenting them again and assuring them he’d make sure _Rafael_ got home safe.  

When he closed the door behind him the man was standing on the curb, tapping the bejeezus out of his phone like putting his fingers through the screen would get an Uber there faster.  Sonny strolled up to him without a care in world, which only seemed to tick him off more.  Rafael refused to look at him when their shoulders touched.  It was petulant and childish and Sonny loved seeing it because it betrayed everything about Rafael’s previously cool facade.  

“Are you here to prevent my escape?” Rafael asked pointedly, staring at his phone.

“Is that what you call this?”

Rafael grumbled, low in his chest.  

For him it was a fairly mild rebuke.

“I expected you to linger and talk and make friends for another ten minutes, at least.  My plan was foolproof,” he argued but it didn’t have much strength behind it.

“Apparently not,” he replied calmly, putting his hands in his pockets.  

It was a warm night and there were still plenty of people milling around.  There was plenty of music and conversation going on around them and Sonny soaked it in.  Existed in the moment for just a second, just enough for a moment’s peace.  He let Rafael’s guard come down, let things settle into the din of the busy street, before attempting a discussion.  

“You know that’s not how I see you, right?” he finally said softly, easily, looking over at the man next to him.  The man in the dark suit and checkered shirt who had stress lines around his eyes and now looked like he’d rather walk out into oncoming traffic than have this conversation.  

Rafael sighed and hung his head.

“Christ…”

“No, hey, listen to me,” he said, turning.  Rafael’s eyes looked lethally green in the glow from the streetlights.  “I’m not here to sell myself to you or to convince you to give this a shot.  I’m not gonna hound you for anything, Counselor.  Swear to God I won’t.”

Rafael cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

“You won’t?”

“No, I won’t,” he replied.  “But I will tell you that when I look at you I don’t see some poor sap in a dead-end job or an old man scamming on the hot new guy.”

That earned him an insulted scoff.

“I see someone who works his ass off to get justice for vulnerable people in the worst time of their life.  Who fights their battles for them.  I see someone who could have gone on to make stupid amounts of money in corporate law and instead chose to slum it here with us.”  He grinned.  “I see a sexy as fuck sugar daddy in a suit worth more than everything in my apartment, who could probably be dating a heart surgeon or something and instead chooses to slum it here with me.”

Rafael smirked.  

“I don’t know any heart surgeons.”

“And here we are.”

Rafael sighed, nodding.  He looked over at Sonny with something indecipherable in his eyes.  Sonny didn’t know.  Couldn’t place it.  But it did look… soft.

“Here we are,” he murmured quietly, the words carried off into the night air immediately upon leaving his lips.

“Just… just don’t send me away,” Sonny asked gently.  “Don’t hurt whenever you look at me.  I can’t stand it.  Feeling you in pain is more than I can take, okay?”

Rafael looked surprised, looked guilty for a second, and then nodded.

“Okay.  I won’t.”

“You could have dinner with me tomorrow again, too.  If you find yourself hungry sometime tomorrow night.”

Rafael smirked.  “I’m known to do that occasionally.”

“Lots of people do, it turns out,” Sonny joked as a silver sedan pulled to the curb in front of them.  Sonny jumped forward to open the car door for him, stepping to the side so Rafael could climb inside.  “I’ll text you.  Tomorrow night is my pick, though.”

“So, pasta.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to seduce me or if you’re being vaguely racist,” he snarked and Rafael laughed, looking skyward for strength.

“Goodnight, Sonny,” he said softly, green eyes meeting blue.

“Night, counselor."

"Rafael."

"Hmm?"

"You can call me Rafael," he said and Sonny nodded, practically buzzing with happiness.

"Goodnight, Rafael.  Get home safe.”

Sonny closed the door behind him and offered another wave as the car pulled away from the curb.  He didn’t say what he really wanted to but felt the words pressing on his tongue anyway, begging to be released.  

_This was the best night of my life._

_You’re so perfect to me._

_I can’t remember now what I was like before I loved you._

Sonny watched the car drive away and basked in the calm thumping in the right side of his chest.  


	6. What Rafael Learns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael adjusts and still manages to be caught off-guard.

 

Sonny was serious about dinner, as it turned out.

Rafael really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Not with the way Sonny’s face broke into a wide smile when he saw him the next morning or the way he made unrestrained, practically obscene eye contact when he offered to bring Rafael a cup of coffee or get him a particular file.  He felt Sonny’s gaze like a physical caress as it raked down him the moment he’d walked in, had flushed and preened under it.  How inadvisable of him.  Rafael probably should have told him to tone it down some.  He probably should have managed to get Sonny alone and mock him up one side and down the other, stage whispering that he was going to get them caught because he couldn’t manage to keep his eyes to himself.  

He didn’t.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

Instead Rafael suppressed a smile and focused on the case at hand, listening to Olivia go through the motions of explaining the psychocardiologist’s findings and Christian Shaw’s lab work.  Yes to soulmates, no to a physical overreaction.  Hormone and endorphin levels were within normal limits for someone newly bonded.  The overreaction was psychological only.  Rafael looked over the reports and wondered how similar his own blood would be - high in oxytocin, high in serotonin.  High in dopamine, which he now knew was responsible for making an addiction.  In his case, an addiction to clean lines, gangly limbs, and smirking blue eyes.

Smirking blue eyes that wouldn’t leave his face unless it was to stare at his ass.

It shocked Rafael that Sonny had ever managed to accomplish anything undercover, as blatant as he was being now with whatever was running through his head. 

Still, Sonny upheld his promise.  

No boundaries were pushed and Sonny was happy to do nothing more than feed Rafael, showing up at his office between the hours of five and seven every evening to drag him to a restaurant regardless of whatever work still needed to be done.  Somewhere different every night, somewhere with a bar and low lighting and a modicum of privacy.  Rafael got to finish every night with a stiff drink and a streak of human sunshine to keep him company, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the best he’d felt in years.  

None of those meals were quite so dramatic as the first - no heartfelt confessions or deep-seated insecurities aired, although Rafael had caught a few wistful glances in his direction when Sonny thought he wasn't looking.  Glances he so cherished that he didn’t intend to hold them against Sonny, who was happy to indulge him with work-related talk and a never-ending stream of purposefully irritating patter.  Poorly-informed opinions on music and film and law that were designed to rile him.  Apparently having Rafael grouse at him was something that worked for Sonny if the lovesick looks on his face were anything to go by.

Inexplicably.  

Rafael would never understand the heavy flash of heat in his blood at Sonny’s good-natured scoff, or the way a perfectly timed comment would settle low in his stomach with a hard twist before his brain ever recognized the need to reply.  He had no idea how it must feel to have his own teasing eyes rest on Sonny’s angular face and watch it flush prettily at the slightest barb.

No, Rafael had no idea what that was like.

Sonny’s heartbeat was ever-present in his chest but, like his own, his awareness of it had mostly faded.  It was easy for him to tune in, to feel Sonny if he concentrated on it, but the extra beats in his chest no longer threw him off-kilter.  He did like to check in, from time to time.  In the mornings, late at night.  Every so often throughout the day to see if he could get any insight into Sonny’s mood or state of mind if he had a spare moment and found himself feeling sentimental.  He was pretty sure he knew Sonny’s morning routine now, which was what made it surprising for him when halfway through his shower Rafael felt Sonny’s pulse thud heavily and start to climb.  

It was barely six-thirty, which meant Sonny hadn’t even hit snooze the first time yet.  He wouldn’t actually force himself out of bed until closer to seven and he usually texted Rafael not long after - a habit that was as obnoxious as it was endearing and Rafael would never admit to liking it.  Regardless, the evidence was there.  It was clear in every thick thump on the right side of his chest and in the slow, slick heat making its way through his bloodstream.  

He didn’t feel angry, Rafael thought.  Not afraid like he would in a nightmare, either, and he’d felt one of those already this week.  They felt different - that was an ethereal sort of fear, a general nerviness that never quite settled into something concrete.  There was always a chance Olivia had called him with a case but then his heart would have jolted for a second when the phone rang and then slowed as he woke.  

Rafael let the hot shower spray coat him, the smell of his own soap heavy in his nose, and he tried to get a read on what Sonny was doing.  He couldn’t read his thoughts but if he kept still and sunk into Sonny’s presence within himself he was sometimes able to feel a hint of what the other man felt.  The good news was that as Rafael settled in, nothing negative seem to be pricking at the edges of his awareness.  Still, Sonny’s heartbeat continued to quicken at a fairly steady pace.

Exercising?

Sonny didn’t go to the gym.

Or at least not that he’d ever mentioned, and that was something he could see Sonny throwing out there just so Rafael would know and think about it.  

Not that he would.

Much.

He supposed Sonny could be working already but his heartbeats were slow and steady just a few minutes ago, when Rafael first woke and climbed into the shower.  They weren’t even fast enough for him to have been getting dressed.  Whatever Sonny was doing, or thinking, was making his heart beat faster without ever having gotten out of b-

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Another wave of heat crashed over his shoulders and Rafael didn’t bother to pretend it was the hot water.  He wasn’t  _ that  _ delusional, even with his heart starting to pound alongside Sonny’s.  Blood left his head so quickly his vision tunneled and his breathing picked up, loud now in the small space of his shower.  The sound of his anguished gasps echoed back to his own ears and for a second it sounded like there was someone else in there with him, and wouldn’t  _ that  _ be nice.  

Someone else with sandy hair flecked with gray, curling against his forehead and dripping.

Someone else with pale skin flushed pink in the hot shower.

Someone with stormy blue eyes narrowed in his direction, crowding him into the corner until his warm skin was flush with cool tile and his back arched up into slender planes of muscle to stay warm.

_ Fuck _ .

Rafael was touching himself before his logical brain had time to argue a case for  _ reasonable expectation of privacy.   _ His hand was gliding down his length, twisting over the blunt head of his prick, and his tongue had snuck out to worry the soft pout of his lower lip.  Sonny’s heart was beating away in his chest, steady but quick, only ever gaining as Rafael embraced the lust humming in his veins and surrendered himself to it.  For a moment - and not for the first time - Rafael wondered just what was going through Sonny’s head.  

An old girlfriend or boyfriend?  

An imaginary lover?

Him?

Was Sonny touching himself to thoughts of Rafael?

His groan was wretched and loud enough to echo.  The thought was almost sweet enough to finish him off but he wasn’t ready to give it up yet, not with his back against the cold tile and Sonny’s face in his mind.  When Rafael closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall he could see Sonny so clearly he had ceased to be fantasy.  Sonny was pinning him to the shower wall, breathing into his ear, hands on Rafael’s hips with his thigh between his legs.  He was stronger than he looked.  All tone and sinew, the perfect amalgamation of statuesque grace and dense power as he guided Rafael’s hips back and forth across the slick plane of his thigh.  The motion rocked Sonny’s hard muscle into the giving valley of tissue behind his sac.  It was too good, too much.  Rafael took in a deep breath through his nose and released it on a groan at the sound of Sonny’s voice in his ear.

_ Fuck, Raf, just like that. _

His grip tightened.

His hand sped up.

_ God, I want you so much,  _ Sonny’s voice told him in something between a wanton whimper and a curse.   _ You feel so perfect, Rafael.  So good.  You’re driving me up the friggin’ wall here... _

Rafael thrusted into his fist, ground down on the thick thigh between his legs, and reveled in Sonny’s answering cry.  

_ Jesus… ah, God, Raf.  Are you going to move like this when I’m inside you, Rafi?  When I’m fucking you into the headboard?  You gonna rock your hips up like you can’t get enough of me? _

“Oh, fuck,” he mewled into the enclosed space, uncaring how it seemed to amplify the agony in his voice.  “Oh,  _ fuck,  _ querido…” 

_ What are you gonna do, Rafi?  _ he asked, dragging Rafael’s hips faster now.  Faster, harder, so that the water from the shower was the only thing keeping the hair on Sonny’s leg from causing a friction burn.  

“I’m- God, Sonny, I’m-”

_ Are you gonna come for me, Rafi?  You gonna let me watch you?  Oh shit.  Shit, Rafi, I’m so close.  So, so close.  Keep moving for me, okay?  Don’t stop.  God, don’t stop, please.  _

His reply was barely more than a breathy whine.  There wasn't much else he was capable of, not when Sonny’s heart thundered beside his.  Rafael felt it lurching, felt it hammering, and knew without a doubt that Sonny was nearing his end.  His own Sonny, the one in his shower, was still murmuring encouragement, still pleading in a voice gone husky with want.  

_ Come on, that’s it.  Let me see you, Rafi.  Let me have you... _

Rafael felt lips on the shell of his ear and his own heart stuttered in his chest.  He came with a plaintive cry, coating his fingers with his release in a few long seconds filled with his own gasps for breath.  His stomach flexed, his legs shook with the intensity of it, and he did his best to stay upright while he pulled the last drop from himself.  It was washed away in the quickly cooling spray and he sighed, feeling both their hearts start to slow to normal.  Sonny had come, he was sure.  A deep sense of satisfaction settled into his bones and he was positive it wasn’t only his.  

He put off opening his eyes for as long as he could, knowing already he would be alone when he did.  He wanted to bask in the afterglow, at least for a little while longer.

He wanted to imagine Sonny there with him, just a little while longer.

Rafael sighed and climbed out of the shower.

And then promptly wanted to climb back in when he checked his phone, a single message from Sonny appearing on the screen.

 

**_Good morning, Rafi.  Enjoy your shower?  ;)_ **

 

Rafael tossed the phone back onto the bed, forgoing a reply.

He wouldn’t dignify that with a response.

 

**…**

 

Rafael sighed.  

It was close to the end of the day now and he'd been too distracted to accomplish much of anything.  His thoughts drifted - always, unerringly - to Sonny.  To the fact that his misery was self-imposed.  There was nothing but himself in the way.  His own hang-ups, his own worries and doubts and ridiculous fears.  Sonny would wait for a while, he was sure, but hanging around waiting on Rafael to sort his baggage was no way to live and he wouldn’t sentence Sonny to that.  The only question was what he would do instead.

Would he send Sonny away?

Or would he learn to live with being happy?

A knock sounded on the door, pulling him out of his own head long enough to see Carmen crack open the door and inch through it.

“Mr. Barba?”

“Yes,” he replied, sitting up in his chair and waving her inside.  “Is Rita here already?  I wasn’t expecting her for another half-hour.”

“No sir,” she replied, “I just wanted to let you know that Christian Shaw made bail earlier today.  The county jail just called.”

“What?” he asked, astounded.  “His bail was set remarkably high.  You’re sure it was Christian Shaw?”

Carmen looked like she’d barely suppressed an eye roll, which he guessed was fair.  She was more than capable of listening to a phone call and recognizing a name for one of his defendants.

“Yes, sir.  Apparently an anonymous benefactor contributed to his church’s fundraiser, making up the difference for his release.”

“Right.  Thank you,” he said, standing from his chair and reaching for his jacket.  

“Are you going to stop him?” she asked, amused, and he should really start making sure she stopped spending so much time with Sonny because that smirk in her eyes seemed very, very familiar.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied as he buttoned his jacket.  “I’d just like to remind Mr. Shaw of the order of protection placed against him.”

“Would you like me to call Lieutenant Benson for you?  Or Detective Carisi?” she offered innocently.  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind escorting you.”

Those smirking eyes again.

He was reconsidering her Christmas bonus and it was only July.

“No thank you, Carmen,” he replied with no trace of humor in his voice.  It was a shame it didn’t intimidate her like it did all his other assistants.  “I’ll be back shortly.  Hold my calls for the time being.”

“And Ms. Calhoun?” she asked with a knowing arching of her brow.

“Let her wait,” he answered.  “Hold off until she’s livid and then reschedule.”

“Yes, sir.”

He left Carmen standing in the middle of his office, looking amused but certainly too professional to say anything about it.

 

**…**

 

The county jail currently holding Christian Shaw was two blocks from the courthouse, barely more than a brisk walk from his office.  He didn’t often have to visit but when he did it was helpful to be situated so close.  As it was, had he been forced to take a car he might have missed Christian Shaw’s release entirely.  Rafael was walking in the door as they were returning his personal effects.  He was dressed in the jeans and t-shirt he’d been arrested in, something well-worn with a band Rafael didn’t know emblazoned on the front.

“Mr. Shaw,” he started and the boy turned to look at him, eyes widening for only an instant before he turned his attention back to the guard handing him his wallet and keyring.  “Don’t look so surprised.  You’ll be seeing a lot of my face over the coming months, I expect.”

Christian Shaw didn’t answer.  Only tucked his possessions into his pockets and thanked the guard.  Not another word or glance for the man who would be doing his level best to ensure Christian spent a significant amount of time in prison.  His silence bothered Rafael, who expected to see the snarling aggravation he’d demonstrated in court a week ago.  He just wasn’t sure if it bothered him because it went against his expectations or if it means that the kid had wised up and started working on his defense - namely, the sweet and clearly devoted son of a sick mother who would  _ never  _ do anything to hurt his soulmate.  

“Mr. Barba,” a voice called from behind him and he turned to find Christian’s public defender coming through the door, looking harried but alert.  His dark hair was grown out of its cut and tousled from the breeze outside.  He couldn’t have been much older than thirty.  “Come to see my client off?  That’s very kind of you considering your schedule.”

“I’m not here for diplomatic reasons,” he said, grasping for the defender’s name and coming up empty.  

“A deal, then?” the man replied.  “I’d be happy to send my wishlist to your assistant.”

He smirked.  “I’ll be sure she shreds it twice.”

“So, what then?” the defender asked as he came to stand beside Christian, who was still regarding Rafael with little more than boredom.  Rafael didn’t know who’d imprinted on him to assure his calm cooperation but they’d done a terrific job - Rafael would have a harder time selling an overreaction case with such a calm suspect seated at the other table.  

“I’m here to remind Mr. Shaw that despite his release, he does still have a restraining order in effect,” Rafael replied.  “He is to go nowhere near her, or her neighborhood, and is to attempt no contact whatsoever.  In person, the phone, or electronically.”

“I’ve been sure to educate him on the conditions of the order,” the younger lawyer replied, unamused.  

“And you’ve also educated your client that if he’s caught near her, or if she reports having dealt with him, that we’re able to revoke bail and add charges?” Rafael said pointedly, looking directly at Christian and for the first time seeing a lick of temper in his otherwise dark eyes.  “I’m certain that’s not what your client wants.  For himself, or for his ailing mother.”

“Mr. Shaw is aware.”

“Good,” Rafael said, now plastering on a wan smile and turning away from the two men behind him.  “Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

He let the door to the jailhouse close behind him and he deaded for the nearest crosswalk, pulling his phone from his pocket in the process.  Olivia’s number was pinned to his favorites list, situated below the district attorney’s private line and his mother’s cell phone.  It rang for several seconds before Olivia picked up, sounding distracted.

“Benson.”

“It’s me,” he said and fell into the crowd crossing the street.  

“What have I done?” she asked sarcastically and he could see her behind her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “I promise you that entire casefile was signed, Barba.  I checked it myself.  Do not make me send Carisi over there to get it again.”

“No need,” he replied although a reason to see Sonny would not be unwelcome.  “I’m calling because Christian Shaw just made bail.”

“What?!”

“Some do-gooder donated to his church’s fundraising campaign and now he’s out.  I’ve taken the liberty of reminding him and his counsel about the terms and consequences of the restraining order should he break it, and his lawyer was quick to verbalize understanding.”

“And Shaw?”

“Silent,” he replied.  “It looks like his public defender is better than I was assuming, which isn’t news for us.”

“Because he’s going to parade that boy in there as a sweet young romantic,” she filled in and he nodded despite the fact that she couldn’t see him do it.  “It was Heather who reacted poorly to their bond, not him.”

“Precisely.”

“Why don’t you ever call me with good news?”

He scoffed.  “I’ll let you know when I stumble across some.  In the meantime-”

“-I’ll send someone to give her a heads-up,” she continued and he took another moment to be grateful for such a seamless working relationship.  “Thank you, Barba.”

“Talk soon, Liv,” he replied and ended the call, eyes on his office building ahead.  

With any luck Rita would still be there, spitting mad at being told to wait.

He should be so lucky.

Rafael wouldn’t mind the fight.

  
  



	7. What Rafael Decides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael makes his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done in a rush - no beta, all errors are mine. I promise to correct them as I find them, folks. Sorry if they distract you from the story!

 

Sonny knocked on the apartment door in front of him for the ninth time in two weeks and cleared his throat, doing his level best to appear unfazed by the fact that he was there again. Fin stood slightly behind him, hands in pockets, surreptitiously observing the hallway as an elderly man carried a brown sack of groceries to his front door and struggled to juggle his keys.  Sonny wasn't surprised at all when Fin went to help, approaching the man cautiously and offering to hold the bag while he unlocked the door.  He looked grateful, voice frail.  Sonny had to fight a grin, knowing it would annoy the hell out of the sergeant, and instead focused his attention on the door swinging open and the woman who opened it. 

“Oh, thank God, it’s you.”

Heather Maytorena’s mother was a nervous wreck now and it had only gotten worse in the two weeks since Christian Shaw made bail.  She'd gone from a stoic, obviously proud woman with every hair in place and her emotions ruthlessly under control to the woman standing before him now, hair messily pulled back and mascara smudged over tired brown eyes.  Sonny didn't blame her.  He didn't know what he would do in her situation - daughter held hostage and assaulted, the guy who did it out on bail.  Obsessed with her.  Sonny would probably be a nervous wreck too, and that was only if he managed to keep from wringing the guy's neck himself.  

“Got your call.  Sergeant Tutuola is here, too.  He'll be right back,” he told her, doing his best to project calm confidence he felt only partially.  “Heather okay?”

“Yeah, she’s in her room.  Come in, come in,” she told him, ushering the two of them inside as Fin joined him again.  She closed the door behind them and threw the deadbolt into place like it had done her some personal harm.  “Have you heard anything?”

“Christian Shaw hasn’t left his apartment in several days, ma’am,” Fin assured her calmly, probably having memorized this platitude reciting it so many times.  “Have you seen him in the neighborhood?”

“No, not him,” she replied quickly but didn’t look guilty at all, considering how often she kept calling them out to tell them she hadn’t seen him.  “I want you to look at someone else.  This guy has been on the block all week and I don’t know him.”

Reina Maytorena directed them to a window behind the couch and pulled back a set of stylish taupe curtains to reveal… the street.  The one they’d drove up on a few minutes before, with no sign of anyone other than a garbage truck finishing up their last ride of the day and their own Lincoln from the motor pool.  She looked up and down, scanned the length of the street, frowning impressively.

“He was there twenty minutes ago, right after I called,” she insisted.  “Old white guy in a white SUV.  Newer, kind of nice.  I keep noticing it because it has a fricking Dallas Cowboys sticker on the back.  Who likes the Cowboys here?  Come on.”

“You remember anything about the guy driving it?” Fin asked from behind them while Sonny kept his eyes on the street below.  

“I just told you.  Old white guy.”

“How old?”

She frowned some more, this time in thought.  

“Late sixties, maybe?”

“Anything else about him?” Fin prompted.  “Hair color, tattoos, how he was dressed?”

“Graying hair, or maybe just light.  It’s hard to tell from this far.  Dressed nice, I guess.  Normal.”

“Nothing that would stand out?” Sonny asked from next to her on the couch, noting how she seemed to pause in thought.  “Nothing your eyes caught on for a second?”

“Yeah, he was wearing sneakers,” she said, shaking her head.  “He was in slacks and a nicer shirt, like maybe he was working all day, but he was wearing scuffed up sneakers.”

Fin nodded thoughtfully.  “But he’s not here now?”

“I guess not,” she replied and seemed angry about it.  “Figures.  I put off calling all day and I finally do it so he disappears.”

“Has this guy made any attempt to come close to the building?  To talk to you or your daughters?” Sonny asked and shook her head.  

“No.  Hasn’t even looked in our direction as far as I can tell. It’s just… why is he here?  Why is he parked out on our street every day when we’ve never seen him before?” she asked and as far as Sonny was concerned, those were pretty solid questions.  They weren’t her asking him to come down and interrogate the FedEx guy because he looked at Heather for half a second too long.  

That was last week.

“Well, if he comes back see if you can’t get a picture or something,” Sonny told her with a sigh, getting off the couch again.  “Don’t engage, though.  Don’t go out there and try to talk to him.  I’m sure it’s nothing but you can’t be too careful.”

“So, what?” she asked, “I just call you again?”

“That’s what we’re here for, ma’am,” Fin confirmed.  

“Yeah, alright,” Ms. Maytorena sighed.  

“Do you mind if I go back and say hi to Heather?” Sonny asked and pulled a small DVD case from the breast pocket of his jacket.  “Detective Rollins sent me with something for her.”

“Sure, go ahead,” she replied, nodding her head toward Heather’s room.  

Sonny heard Fin ask to go over a few more details with her about the man she’d seen and Sonny left them to knock on Heather’s door, DVD case in hand.  He’d tried to get her to bring it herself - or at least to come with him - but she’d turned him down for the fifth time in a row.  Not because she didn’t want to see Heather, but because Heather’s mother always made a stink about the cops sending “little girls” instead of a cop who could do something if Heather was in danger.  It didn’t matter how often everyone tried to explain that Amanda Rollins was tougher than the rest of them combined - for Ms. Maytorena it was male officers or nothing.  Sonny didn’t blame her for not wanting to hear about not being able to do her job, even if she knew better.

“ _ ¿ _ _ Qué deseas? _ ” 

“It’s Sonny,” he called through the door, hoping that was the correct answer.  

“ _ Adelante _ ,” Heather’s voice beckoned and his Spanish may have been crap but he was working on it and knew the word meant it was okay for him to open the door.  

It had taken about a week of seeing him every day, but Heather had managed to warm up to him now.  Not as much as with Rollins - apparently they talked to each other almost every day - but still, she’d softened up enough to let him check on her when they were in the house and letting him talk to her for a few minutes here and there.  He even got a smile now and then, if it was early in the day and her ma hadn’t driven her too far up the wall by the time he showed up.  

Now Sonny poked his head through the door and waved, noting the stubborn set to the teenager’s jaw and the restless way she was tapping on the screen of her phone.  Probably not many smiles going around today.  

“Hey,” he greeted, “How you holding up?”

“I’m going out of my fricking mind,” she swore, tossing her phone to the side.  “Where’s Amanda?”

“What, I’m not good enough all of a sudden?” he joked and she rolled her eyes at him.  The teenager-ness of it made him fight not to laugh.  “Nah, she’s back at the office.  Had some stuff to catch up on.”

“My mom call her a little girl again?”

Sonny grimaced.  

“It might’a been mentioned.  Hey, she sent me with this though,” he said and handed her the movie, “Said it saved her life when she was on maternity leave.”

“‘ _ Clueless _ ’?” she read skeptically, arching a dark brow at Sonny like the chick flick had been his idea all along.

“Hey, don’t look at me alright?  I’m just the messenger.”

“This is like, old school ancient history.  Didn’t this come out in the nineties?”

“Since when are the nineties ancient history?!” he cried indignantly, half to make her smile and half because he was already a teenager when that came out and  _ Jesus Christ he felt old _ .  “But hey, if you don’t want it-”

“No, I want it,” she insisted, keeping the DVD from him when he acted like he was going to take it back.  “Tell her thanks, okay?  I’m going crazy in here without anything to do.”

“She told me to tell you to text her when you start watching,” he told her and enjoyed the way her face lit up when she nodded.  It was a significant difference from the surly kid he’d walked in on a few minutes before.

Heather was… Heather was struggling.  

Everything for her had flipped upside down, had gotten mixed up.  Instead of summer break she had house arrest.  Instead of the beach she had the TV and instead of friends she had a couple of cops two or three times her age coming to check on her every time her mother had a freak-out.  In the weeks since Shaw’s release, Heather hadn’t been allowed out of the house all that often.  She got why, even he got why, but it didn’t make it much easier for her when she was trying to pretend her life could go back to some semblance of normal.  Sonny had watched with discomfort as the biting temper he’d grown to associate with her faded into something sad, like acceptance.  Something dark, every time he found her texting and refusing to interact with her mother and sister.  Luckily Rollins was a miracle worker and had managed to put some life back in her with little more than an old movie.  

“So did my mom tell you about the stalker who likes the Cowboys?” she scoffed, like it was a big joke.  To her it probably was.  Her mother had called them out too many times for Heather to take it seriously anymore.

“Yeah, she told us.”  He lifted his chin.  “You worried about it?”

She shook her head.  “Nah.”

“Good,” he said, nodding appreciatively and offering her a fist bump that she took with only the mildest eye roll she could manage.  For a teenager it might as well have been a bear hug.  “You take care of yourself, alright?  Call if you need us.  Text Amanda so she’ll shut up about it, alright?  I can’t take much more of her trying to convince me how good it is.”

Heather scoffed.  “Boys don’t understand.”

“Yeah, well, this one doesn’t,” he agreed and watched her jump off the bed to put in the movie.  “You want me to shut the door?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” she said distractedly and he left it open, feeling a miniscule change in the tide.  

Fin was finishing up with Heather’s mom when Sonny came back into the living room, nodding while he listened and made the occasional note. Ms. Maytorena was happy to show them out, never tolerating their presence for much longer than it took for them to listen to her concerns and assure her that her daughter was safe.  He didn’t blame her - they were a constant reminder of what had happened to her kid.  This time Fin made a point of convincing her that the unis posted on her block would be given a description of the man and his car, and would be told to question him should he show up again.  That satisfied her, it seemed.  She even closed the door on them with a small smile.

Sonny didn’t get the chance to comment on it - or to ask his sergeant’s thoughts about the man Ms. Maytorena had described - because his phone went off in his pocket, blaring a song that would have been embarrassing had he let it ring for more than a second.  

“Carisi,” he said reflexively, more interested in getting the ringtone to shut up than in looking to see who was calling.  

He was rewarded with a very welcome voice, gruff in his ear.

“It’s me,” Rafael said and Sonny had to fight a grin as they headed to the elevator.  

“Hey, Me,” he replied and he could feel Rafael rolling his eyes from across town.  There was a chance it was going to set off some kind of seismic activity.  Sonny really should warn him that his eyes might stick that way if he didn’t tone it down.  

“Charming,” Rafael shot back and Sonny could hear rustling paper in the background, “I’m calling to inform you that I’ll be working late and can’t make it to dinner tonight.  Some detectives screwed up chain of evidence and now I have to figure out another way to get it admissible.”  

“Was it us?” Sonny asked, concerned. 

“No, you’re off the hook for the time being,” Rafael replied.  “In any case, we’ll have to postpone.”

“Or I could bring food to you.”

A long pause.

Crap.

He’d pushed too far.

“Where you decide to have dinner is up to you,” he replied finally and Sonny had the sudden impression that someone else may be in the room with him.  “That being said… you’re welcome to do that here, if you want.”

Sonny beamed.

“See you tonight?”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Sonny ended the call just as they got back to the sidewalk and he took a deep breath of summer air, ignoring the hints of trash and grease to focus on the nice breeze and the smell of lilac bushes a few feet away.  Sadly, the moment wasn’t meant to last and Fin had to be the one to disrupt it.  

“Yo, was that Boyz II Men?”

He groaned and did his best to avoid eye contact.

“Come on, Sarge.”

“Hot date?” Fin asked, the ghost of a grin on his otherwise wry expression.  

“Something like that,” Sonny admitted, thinking of a grouchy ADA stuck behind a desk and bitching about paperwork he shouldn’t have to be doing had other people done their jobs first.  The image really shouldn’t have filled him with as much pleasure as it did.  

“I’ll take the car back, then.  You get out of here,” Fin offered, holding his hand out for the keys.  

“You sure?”

“Yeah, take off.  You’ve gotten enough OT this week to grab a month’s worth of early dinners.  We’ll call you if something comes up.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” he replied, handing the keys over.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Not if I’m lucky.”

Sonny snorted and waved his superior officer off as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket.  He’d had a plan for tonight, for their dinner.  Rafael having to work may have thrown that off course but it wasn’t something he couldn’t correct for.  Uber could get him to the food truck in twenty minutes, and then back to Raf’s office half an hour after that.  Rafael would pretend to be inconvenienced, would pretend to find Sonny an unwelcome distraction.  He would grouse and grumble and would eat his dinner and pretend he didn’t enjoy it as much as he did.

Sonny grinned and waited on the curb.

Hot date, alright.

Sonny couldn’t wait.

 

**…**

 

Rafael knew the second Sonny was at the door.  His ridiculous heart ratted him out, ticking up just before he raised his hand to knock.  Ridiculous, of course, because Sonny still insisted on acting like Rafael was company worth having - him, with his caustic snark and tendency to dismiss rather than entertain.  Sonny also acted like he would tire of the detective and send him packing at the first irritation.  Neither of those things were remotely true but he wasn’t about to correct the misconception because it kept Sonny around, kept him making truly pitiful jokes over the phone and showing up at his office with paper to-go bags that smelled heavenly even through the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, for little else than his own amusement.

“It’s me.”

“Hello, Me,” he acknowledged, oozing sarcasm as Sonny scoffed and opened the door.  A bag was gripped in his hand and jacket was already unbuttoned, hair slipping from its carefully coiffed shape.  It wasn’t until Rafael looked at his watch that he realized it was almost eight already - it had been over an hour since he called Sonny and allowed himself to be talked into a working dinner.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said breathlessly, heading straight for the table in the middle of the room to set down the bag.  “The Uber was late, and then there was a line a mile long to even get my order taken.  Which I probably should have guessed because this place is famous, supposedly, but still.  I’m sorry.”

“I highly doubt a famous restaurant has a line instead of reservations,” Rafael said pointedly.  He watched as Sonny took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, exposing lean sinew his fingers itched to trace.   

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, clearly delighted.

“Oh?”

“On both fronts, Counselor.  It  _ is  _ famous, but it is not a restaurant.  Well, not like the you’re thinking anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “You’re not giving me a whole lot of confidence right now.”

“It’s a food truck,” Sonny answered smugly, holding up what looked like a sandwich in a white paper wrap.  The smell wafted stronger and his mouth watered at the familiar scent.  He wasn’t quite able to place it.  “Come eat.  It’s got five stars on Yelp, I swear to God.”

“I’m certain that’s blasphemous,” he said but got up anyway, already happy to get away from his desk.  His lower back smarted and he could feel a dull throb above his left eyebrow that promised to turn into something monstrous if he didn’t do something about it soon.  

That something being a moment away from work.

That something being a quiet meal with the man occupying the entirety of the space beneath his ribs.   

“I’ll be sure to add that to my list for confession on Sunday,” Sonny joked in return but sat down, pushing a sandwich across the table at him when Rafael claimed his own seat.  A bottle of water sat waiting for him and he stared at it for a second, confused, because usually his fluid intake was either the deep black of coffee or the golden brown of scotch.  Was Sonny trying to send him into shock?  He unwrapped his dinner and the smell came stronger, instantly recognizable now.  Recognizable enough that his stomach clenched in anticipation and his mouth watered.  

If his voice came out sounding thrilled, it couldn’t be helped.

“Cubanos?”

“Yup,” Sonny replied proudly, leaning back in the chair and taking a bite.   

“Are you trying to seduce me or are you being vaguely racist?” Rafael asked, calling back Sonny’s own words but unable to completely hide how happy he was with his soulmate’s choice.

Sonny grinned.

“Why can’t it be both?”

Rafael chuckled and took his first bite, barely avoiding a delighted groan.  Between the meal and the company, this was on its way to becoming the best night he’d had in awhile.

Sonny really was an excellent dinner partner.

It was a fact that Rafael had slowly been adjusting to over the last three weeks, although in the end he didn’t need to adjust much.  Sonny was calm and considerate, conversing sparsely between bites and happy to enjoy the meal in friendly silence.  Quick with a joke, giving with his praise when it came to waitstaff and the chef.  He managed to make the people serving him feel grateful and his partners happy to be seen with him.  Their third night eating together Rafael almost accused him of sucking up to get better service but stopped himself because there was nothing about Sonny that was ever self-serving.  

Sonny was, possibly, the most giving individual he’d ever known - second maybe to Liv, who seemed to only ever sacrifice herself and her happiness upon the altar of the powers that be.  But while Olivia Benson sacrificed herself for the greater good, for the big picture, Sonny seemed to sacrifice himself in little ways.  In small doses of kindness over long periods.  With his time and his effort and his carefully considerate sentences designed to evoke affection or empathy or comfort.  Rafael had no doubt Sonny would offer up something bigger - himself, if needed - for someone else but he found himself sending up a prayer of thanks that it hadn’t been required of him. 

“So I was thinking,” Rafael said without realizing he’d started to speak.  He really shouldn’t have been surprised - this thing had been weighing on him for days and he’d been dying to run it past the man in front of him.

Sonny looked up, curious.  “What about?”

“I’m considering doing something ambitiously stupid and I’d like to hear your thoughts on the matter,” he said, crumbling his wrapper up and leaning back in the chair.  He was pleasantly full and feeling nothing but contentment.  

“It must not be as bad as you think it is,” Sonny commented but frowned in thought.  “I didn’t think you were capable of doing something truly stupid.”

Rafael scoffed. 

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well then,” Sonny said, standing to collect their trash and toss it into the basket behind Rafael’s desk, “Hit me.”

“I want to try Christian Shaw under the hate crimes statute.”

Sonny stopped mid-step, turning to look at him with confusion and then with something resembling understanding.  And then awe.  Rafael did his best to keep his expression neutral but it was difficult, wanting so much to launch into an impassioned explanation that he knew would be unnecessary.  Sonny wasn’t a dim bulb in any sense of the expression.  All Rafael had to do was give him the destination and Sonny was more than able to find the path himself.  

“You’re trying to create a precedent,” Sonny marveled, putting his hands on his hips.  “You want to turn soulmates into a protected class.”

“It’s a stretch…”

“It’s brilliant is what it is,” Sonny insisted, voice sharp.  “It makes perfect sense.  Would Heather’s assault have happened if she hadn’t been Shaw’s soulmate?  No, probably not.  More likely he would have just gone home and been heartbroken if they hadn’t been bonded.  Which means it’s a hate crime.”

Sonny looked at him like he couldn’t believe Rafael’s genius.

He truly wished he felt the same.

“We may lose,” Rafael warned him, just because he felt the need to remind himself.  “It may get thrown out, the DA might not allow it.  It won’t be the first time I’ve been accused of being a legislator.”

“It doesn’t matter if you win it right off the bat, Rafi,” Sonny insisted, crowding him close now.  “It matters that you’re taking steps.  It matters that you’re fighting, because you’re right.  The fact that Heather was bonded to Christian directly led to her assault.  It’s a hate crime.  Even if we don’t win this one, we can try the next.  And the next after that and the next after that, until we win.  Because we will, Rafi.  This is the right direction and I am so fucking proud of you for being the first to see it.”

God, how did the word “we” sound so perfect coming from Sonny’s lips?

“I want you to be my co-chair,” Rafael said, meeting Sonny’s eyes.  “You’re not lead on her case so it shouldn’t be a conflict of interest.  I need you next to me for this, Sonny.  I won’t be able to do it without you.”

His smile was blinding.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Sonny looked beautiful.

Sonny looked warm and excited and affectionate.

He looked happy.

Rafael wanted to kiss him.

Rafael wanted to kiss him more than he wanted his heart to keep beating.

“Do you want me to go?” Sonny asked suddenly and the words felt like a knife sinking deep, striking bone.

“What?” Rafael breathed, “Why?”

“Because if I stay here any longer without kissing you I’m going to go crazy, and I know that’s not what you want from me,” he answered, voice overwrought.  “I’m not… I don’t want to push you.  I’m okay if all you ever want from me is this - sharing food and talking.  I can live with that.  Hell, I'd love that if it meant keeping you close.  But I can’t pretend I don’t want more and if that makes you uncomfortable I can go.”

Rafael huffed a broken, pained laugh that only seemed to confuse Sonny, who backed away slowly.  Who gave Rafael the space he’d once treasured and now wished would evaporate.  Sonny watched him like he was waiting for an explanation, like Rafael was dying to give one.  

Rafael sighed.

“You know I never wanted a soulmate,” he started as Sonny sat on his couch, continuing when Sonny gave a brief nod of understanding.  “But do you know why?”

“Crabby bastard, remember?” he asked with only a trace of humor.

“That,” he admitted, “And because I was afraid of them.  Afraid of what kind of person would be perfectly suited to me.  Me, a pedantic asshole with a penchant for sarcasm and a lifetime of bad habits to recommend me.  I drink too much, I sleep too little, I work too hard.  All my edges are rough and all my actions are primarily self-serving.  What kind of person, exactly, is well-suited to that?”

He gave Sonny a wan smile that wasn’t returned.

“No one I wanted to know, obviously,” he filled in when Sonny didn't answer. 

Rafael cleared his throat and stood, resting against the table behind him so he could feel a little bit more evenly matched with Sonny’s height.  

“Luckily, it was never an issue.  I never had long-term relationships of any kind, much less one in which a proclamation might have been made.  I assumed I was safe.”  He looked up at Sonny, who seemed to be bracing for a blow Rafael wasn’t going to deliver.  “But then… then I met you.  Then I got to know you, got to see who you were beneath the fucking terrible mustache and overzealous conversational style.  It was the greatest surprise of my life, Sonny, to have discovered you.  The real you - the kind man, the brilliant cop.  The ambitious lawyer.  Getting closer to you meant everything to me.”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.  Rafael continued, feeling anxiety creeping over the back of his neck.

“A few months ago I decided that no matter who showed up, no matter what happened, I was going to send everyone else away.  I was no longer looking, no longer available in any sense of the word.  A perverse part of me wished for the arrival of my soulmate just so I could have the opportunity to deny them.”

Sonny looked up, stricken.

Rafael understood.  He realized how cruel it must have sounded, how unnecessarily malevolent.  

“Are you going to ask me why?” Rafael inquired and it seemed to spur Sonny on, if only for a moment.

“Why?” he asked.  “Why make that decision without knowing  who they were?”

He sighed and looked at Sonny softly.

“For you,” he answered honestly and watched as Sonny took in a quick breath.  “I had made my decision, Sonny.  It was you.  You or no one, for the rest of my life.”

“But-”

“But then our moment happened,” Rafael filled in and a familiar weight settled on his sternum.  “And my choice didn’t matter anymore.  It was taken from me.  I wanted to love you because I  _ chose _ to, Sonny.  I wanted to choose you above all others because I love you, not because of some romantic notion of fate or destiny.  So that you were mine by willpower alone.  Not because some universal power preordained it.  Not because they  _ made _ me.”

Sonny swallowed hard, nodding.  

Rafael hoped he understood.  

There were days he didn’t understand himself.  

When Sonny spoke his voice was rough, his clear eyes direct.

“I get that.  I do.  But I’ve always seen it the other way around.  I love you because you’re you, Rafi.  Not because you’re my soulmate,” he told him honestly and the words  _ I love you  _ hit him right in the chest.  They would have knocked him back had he not been leaning against the table.  “It’s not God or some universal power who’s in front of you right now, Rafi.  It’s just me.  And that choice is still yours.”

Maybe Sonny was right - maybe their bond wasn’t a command, or a directive from a deity Rafael didn’t believe in.  There was a chance loving Sonny was an opportunity and the other thing that kept him from taking it was own ridiculous pride.  Christ, he felt so stupid.  Acting all along like he’d been wronged when Sonny was there waiting, wanting him.   _ Loving  _ him.  Only ever wanting to be close, only ever hoping for the chance to show him.  Waiting for Rafael’s choice.

He chose Sonny.

Always.

Rafael crossed the width of his office before he had a chance to think of the ramifications.  He ate up the distance between them in quick strides, stepping around the table to fall at Sonny’s feet.  In supplication, in apology.  In the hope that Rafael hadn’t forged a distance so great that Sonny wouldn’t be willing to meet him halfway.  His soulmate’s eyes followed him greedily, breathing hard when Rafael’s hands gripped the muscle of Sonny’s thighs and implored him without speaking to look at him.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Rafael growled.  “Do you understand?”

Sonny nodded, swallowing hard.

“You too, Rafi.  I know I’m just me, I know I don’t deserve you or, or  _ this _ , but-”

Rafael stood in a rush, putting a knee on the couch between Sonny’s legs to hold himself up when he reached for Sonny’s face.  He kissed him before Sonny could finish the thought, before Sonny could entertain for even another second that he wasn’t good enough.  That he was inferior.  Nothing could be farther from the truth and Rafael was determined to convince him, to show him with lips and teeth and tongue just how wrong he was when he said he didn’t deserve him.

If loving Sonny was a choice, kissing him was a compulsion.

Rafael couldn’t stop, not when Sonny grappled for a hold on Rafael’s waist or when he opened his mouth to him.  It was the easiest thing he’d ever done to drag his tongue along the roof of Sonny’s mouth and feel his resulting tremor as he struggled to keep up, fought to give as good as he got when he was clearly overwhelmed.  His Sonny, always trying to earn his place.  Even when that place was sprawled over Rafael’s couch, moaning into his mouth and trying to pull Rafael down on top of him.  

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Never willing to relinquish their kiss, wanting to taste Sonny until his lungs screamed for air, Rafael lowered himself onto Sonny’s lap.  His thick thighs bracketed Sonny’s narrow hips perfectly and he hissed at the realization that Sonny had canted up to meet him.  The first bolt of friction raced under his skin and Rafael kissed him harder, catching his love’s bottom lip between his teeth until a soft whimper left his lips and Sonny’s fingers tightened on either side of his waist.  

“Can I undress you, Sonny?” he finally bit out, lips brushing upon the shallow cleft in Sonny’s chin.

The man nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah.  God, G-God yes.  Please.”

His smirk probably looked predatory, but it felt thankful.  It felt like a ruined exaltation to a God who had stopped receiving Rafael’s thanks decades ago.

Sonny’s tie slipped away quietly.

His buttons surrendered without a fight, falling apart with the barest suggestions of his blunt fingertips against their surface.

Rafael touched bare skin - warm and flushed vibrant pink, shot through with a current that left Rafael shaken as it jumped up to meet him - and growled at the sight of Sonny’s back doing its best to arch up with the weight of Rafael’s body pinning him against the couch.  His hips ground up, his arms draped across Rafael’s lower back to guide and reassure and tentatively beg for more.  Closer.  Sonny always wanted closer, always wanted more of him.  

He’d never have to want again.  

Rafael was his.  

His mind, his body.  His heart and soul.  They had all been claimed - branded with Sonny’s easy grin and loud laugh and never-ending well kindness. 

“Can I touch you?” Rafael said in between more kisses.  Sonny nodded enthusiastically and Rafael released a long, approving moan as he parted Sonny’s belt buckle and lowered his zipper.  Sonny’s legs fell open as much as possible, his hands moving to clasp the muscle of Rafael’s thighs over his dress pants.  

The hardening flesh Rafael found was enough to send his blood pressure through the roof - thick and wickedly long, a perfect extension to the lithe body writhing beneath him.  He marveled his good fortune for only a moment before braving a touch.  His thumb, light and reverent against hot skin.  Gentle enough that Sonny whined and gripped his thighs a little tighter.  The vein along the underside held his attention the longest and there wasn’t much Rafael wanted more in that moment than to drop to his knees and follow it with his tongue.

“You’re beautiful,” Rafael murmured and kissed him again and his touch grew firmer.  

“You are,” Sonny insisted, gazing at him imploringly.  “You’re so perfect, Rafi.  I want you so much- _ ah _ !”

Rafael clenched a fist at the root of Sonny’s dick, squeezing.  Sonny vibrated, responsive and eager under Rafael’s sure touch.  The shaking continued as he drew his hand slowly up, curling as he moved.  The tremors of Sonny’s body were timed and rhythmic and- 

Wait.

Not Sonny vibrating.

Sonny’s  _ phone  _ vibrating, the name  _ Lieutenant Benson  _ emblazoned across the top of the screen when Rafael looked down to see it on the couch cushion next to his right knee.

“No,” Sonny gasped, appalled, and Rafael couldn’t help the sarcastic scoff that left his lips.  “No!  God, why?  Why now?!”

“You’d better answer it.”

“I’m gonna,” Sonny insisted, grinding into the shallow hold of Rafael’s fist.

“You’d better answer it  _ quickly _ .”

Sonny spared him a glare but accepted the call and put the screen to his ear, eyes closed.

“Lieu,” he said breathlessly, looking up in shock when Rafael traced the bulging vein on the underside of Sonny’s shaft.  He hadn’t lost an ounce of hardness, still flushed and rigid under Rafael’s gentle touch.

“All hands on deck, Carisi,” she said brusquely, clearly audible from the speaker in Sonny’s ear.  “Heather Maytorena was just reported missing.”

Rafael looked up, surprised, and Sonny looked stricken.

“What?!”

“Just got the call.  No information yet.  Get in here, ASAP.”

“Yeah, of course.  On my way.”

Sonny ended the call without another word, eyes turned skyward as if praying for strength.  He only looked down again when he heard Rafael spit roughly into his palm and take a firm grip on the base of his cock.  Eyes wide, mouth open, he bucked up into Rafael’s fist and dug his fingers into the meat of Rafael’s thighs like he didn’t know if he should be retreating or letting himself have what he obviously wanted.

“Let me,” Rafael pleaded, moving fast and rocking up to rest his weight on his knees.  It put Sonny’s face into his chest, his nose into the silk tie down his middle, and he wrapped his arm around Sonny’s neck to bury his fingers into carefully styled hair.  “Let me have you.”

“Yes,” Sonny murmured against his breastbone.  “Please, yes.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promised and coaxed Sonny to fullness with a few quick strokes.  

Overzealous and on a time crunch, Rafael was rougher than he should have been.  In a perfect world he would take his time, he would be careful and worship him the way he should.  Tell Sonny everything with his body that he could never say with his words.  But this world was deeply flawed and unfair so he was rushed and demanding, so quick to grab hold of Sonny’s hair that he didn’t notice a lock of it hanging in the wristband of his watch until Sonny cried out in pain.  He jerked and backed off, peeling the strands out slowly, already starting a fervent apology when he looked down at Sonny’s face and saw that what had made him cry out wasn’t pain.

Sonny looked  _ wrecked.   _

Face flushed and lips wet, panting into the air between them.  He also looked surprised, as though this particular kind of pleasure was new for him.  

_ Undiscovered territory. _

Rafael felt his cock throb insistently against his zipper as a he lowered his hand again to take a fistful of Sonny’s hair and pull a little, watching as his eyes fluttered and threatened to close.  Little pull was good.  He tightened his grip, winding thick locks between his fingers, before pulling again.  This time with more force.  Force enough to drag his head back and bare his throat to Rafael’s questing eyes.  This time a moan slipped out, hips arching as he fucked into the tight circle of his fist.  Beads of fluid dotted the crown of Sonny’s cock and Rafael collected them all with a swipe of his thumb, using them to slick his way as he pumped Sonny up and down.  Twisting his fist with every stroke, pulling grasping at Sonny’s hair while the man beneath him shook and moaned in wanton praise.  

Rafael had to remind himself to be quick.  He didn’t have time to let this consume him, to let himself burn to the ground like he wanted.  Sonny had to go, had to leave him.  Rafael had to make him come and then had to send him away.  If that was necessary, he would at least send him away with pleasure buzzing heavy in his blood and the memory of Rafael’s voice in his ear.

“I love you,” Rafael ground out as his fingers twisted through strands of wheat-colored hair streaked with silver.  “Do you know that?”

“Yes,” Sonny answered, eyes heavy-lidded.  He was hard as stone in Rafael’s hand, bucking up to meet him with swelling urgency.  

His heart pounded in Rafael’s chest.  He could feel Sonny’s heady warmth radiating from that frantic beat and it spurred him on.  Made him rough, made him desperate.  Made him crazy and hot and fucking unglued as his fist dragged vice-like over Sonny’s cock.  

“Tell me you’re going to come back to me,” he ordered and a pained whine escaped through the man’s parted lips as Rafael’s fingers tightened in his hair.  Clear blue eyes threatened to roll back and his hand stroked harder, flew faster.  

“I’m gonna come back to you.”

“Tell me you’re going to be safe.”

“I-I’m going to be s-safe,” he whimpered pitifully, body thrumming with pleasure.  Rafael could feel the vibration of his oncoming climax with every roll and grind of his pelvis, with every stuttered breath against his lips, with every dramatic hammer of Sonny’s heart against his ribs.   “God.  Ah,  _ God _ , Rafi, I n-, I need-”

“Tell me you love me, Sonny,” he demanded softly and the man in front of him stiffened and shook.

“I love you, Rafi,” he breathed, “I do, I love you.  I love you so much.  I love- oh, oh fuck.  Oh, God.   _ Fuck, Rafi- _ !”

Sonny came with Rafael’s hand fisted deep into his hair, pulling and twisting, and with his hand gripped tight below the head of his cock.  His thumb pressed fast circles under the flared head while Sonny emptied himself onto his stomach.  Long, clinging ropes that caught on the indentations created by the sinew of his abdomen.  Rafael watched, awestruck, while his love shook and groaned and spurted in thick pulses under his palm.  Rafael pressed and wrung every drop from him, every precious pearl from the length of his pulsing shaft.  He loosened his grip, both on his hair and his dick, once Sonny had stopped thrusting and started a shallow rocking that seemed less about sensation and more about the comfort of coming down.  

Sonny was glowing.

Pride welled up and threatened to choke him.  

By the time Sonny opened his eyes, Rafael’s fingers were gently combing through his mussed hair and his other hand had come to rest on his ribs.  Sonny looked dazed and destroyed, gasping prettily while Rafael extricated himself from Sonny’s lap and slid to the floor.  Rafael placed his wide palms on the inside of Sonny’s thighs and pushed them apart, leaning forward to lathe a long stripe up Sonny’s softening cock.  His taste exploded on his tongue, earthy and sharp.  Sonny gasped as Rafael mouthed his way up the length of Sonny’s torso.  Tasting, licking.  Gathering up the streaks of come on Sonny’s body with his tongue and swallowing them down.

“Rafi,” Sonny rasped once the last of his spend had been cleaned and Rafael was drunk on the taste of him.  “Rafi, get up here, let me-”

“You have to go,” Rafael replied as he pressed a kiss into the soft skin of his lower belly and tucked Sonny away.  

In a moment his pants had been done up again and his belt buckled.  Rafael lovingly replaced each button of his shirt, smoothing them down with reverent fingers.  He had to stand back up to finish the last of the buttons and to replace Sonny’s tie, whipping up a simple half-Windsor knot without so much as a pause in his fingers.  Sonny still looked like he wanted to argue, still out of it, until his phone vibrated again - this time with a text - and he seemed to shake himself out of it.  A quick glance at the screen revealed that it was Rollins, asking for an update on his location.

“Better go save the day,” Rafael told him lovingly, standing up again so Sonny could pull himself off the couch.  He captured his lips for a fleeting kiss before walking back to the table to collect Sonny’s jacket from the back of a chair.  Sonny took that time to tuck his shirt in, eyes never leaving him for a second.

“You say that like I’m the only one on the squad.”

“You are, so far as I’m concerned,” he replied honestly and if it was possible, Sonny’s gaze softened even further before some steel crept back into his spine and he pointed a long finger in Rafael’s direction.

“You’re  _ mine _ when I get back,” Sonny said sternly, a warning and a promise, leveling that clear blue stare on Rafael as he took his jacket and threw it around his shoulders.  He sounded rough, still sounded turned on even as his taste lingered on Rafael’s tongue and his color returned to normal.  Rafael’s wildest dreams couldn’t have fathomed the man in front of him, strength and beauty and a smart mouth that could occasionally manage to render him speechless.

Rafael smiled.

“I’m yours before you leave.”

Sonny muttered another oath under his breath and stole one more kiss.  A long one, tinged with desperation because they both know he had to leave.

“Go,” Rafael said, “Let me know what you need.”

Sonny nodded and then he was gone.  

 


	8. What Rafael Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase is on - and goes nowhere, for a while. Until Sonny gets a lead and Rafael says just the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for waiting out this chapter... I hope it's worth it. We're heading into the meat of this story and I'm looking at 11 chapters total, providing nothing blows up in my face.
> 
> Special thanks to Robin Hood, tobeconspicuous, and booyahkendell for helping with encouragement and brainstorming while this chapter was haunting my every thought and refusing to anywhere. Extra thanks go to Robin for the beta. All errors are mine - don't hold them responsible.

 

Sonny caught a cab almost instantly and God was looking out for him that night because the tiny Asian woman behind the wheel drove like a bat outta hell, throwing him all over the backseat like  _ she  _ was the one who needed to get to the precinct instead of him. He had a feeling he would beat the Sarge at this rate, taking yet another corner at full speed.  It was great, and it was useful in two ways - the first of which being that he got there literally as fast he could have, the second of which being that he was too worried about keeping himself alive to let the dizzying swirl of conflicting emotions sweep him up.  

Rafael wants him.  

Heather is missing.  

Rafael loves him.  

Christian Shaw has her, probably.  

They don't know where. 

_ Rafael loves him.   _

What was he supposed to do with that? 

He knew what he wanted to do.  

Sonny wanted to let his heart beat faster, let the well of happiness in his chest overflow until he threatened to burst. To let himself dare to picture a year from now, happy and stable.  Maybe living together.  Five years - married, maybe, if he could talk the crabby bastard into it.  Ten, twenty.  Forty, when they were old and retired and white-haired and bitching about the kids next door to cover for the fact that they missed their own.  

Happiness threatened to suffocate him.

Then he remembered the scared girl somewhere out in the city and a sharp pang of guilt made him bottle it all up again.  His happiness could wait, at least for a little while.  He tried not to let the resentment strangle him.  It was starting to feel as though his bond would be inextricable from this case forever.  Would he always feel cheated out of their moment because it was someone else’s words that started it?  Would he always associate the thrill of Rafael’s touch and the intoxicating weight of his love with the fear and pain of a young girl who wasn’t so lucky?

Because Sonny was. 

Sonny was very lucky.

He'd had the good fortune of knowing his soulmate before they bonded. He'd known Rafael, had fallen in love with him, long before the thought of being soulmates had ever entered his head.  Not everyone got that.  Hell, his parents had their moment the first time his mother called Dominick Carisi an asshole.  Luckily she'd meant it as an endearment rather than an insult or their first date wouldn't have gone any farther than that.  And here he was, forty years later and much older than his parents had been but still in the back of a cab smiling to himself, thinking about an older man’s baiting smirk and the way he insisted Sonny come home safe.  

He really was lucky.  

The last time he’d felt so sure of himself was thirteen years ago now, and he’d been wrong.

He’d met Jennifer Burnett on his twentieth birthday.

Studying, of course, because Sonny wasn’t the kind of kid where he could pull off great grades without putting in the work.  She ran the computer lab in the library, the late shift so all she had to deal with was cleanup and his ridiculous self.  Deleting all his work by slipping his hand across the keyboard and needing help restoring it, yelling at the printer.  Falling asleep in his chair because it was going on one in the morning and his midterm was due in seven hours.  Her copper red curls always caught his eye when he was working and the wealth of freckles across her face and arms made him curious about the rest of her.

She’d been returning his student ID at closing time when she happened to look down and see that it was his birthday.  It was, technically.  He’d been twenty for fifty-five exhausted minutes.  Jen wished him a happy birthday and then, seeing his disinterested shrug, had invited him out for a obscenely early breakfast because birthdays were a big deal and should be celebrated accordingly.  An early breakfast in which he had way too much coffee, talked too much and too fast, and she’d still had this soft, amused look her eyes that made him want to kiss her.

So he did.

Walking her back to her dorm.

She’d kissed him back. 

And that turned into three years.  

Three really good years.  Years where they both got their degrees, where Sonny started the process of going through the Academy.  Graduated the Academy.  Once he was looking at his first post he started thinking about a home.  Not just living together… he knew.  He knew Jen was it for him, knew there would never be anyone else who made him feel this way.  Invincible, fearless.  Like he was capable of anything.  She was quiet and patient and seemed to revel in his enthusiasm, always telling him to go for whatever made him happy.  They’d been telling each other “I love you” for years but there was still one thing Sonny had been holding back.  

That he wanted to stay with her, wanted this to last.

He wanted forever with her.

And that, he was sure, would be his proclamation.  Would start her heart up in his chest, would bond them forever.  

Except…

He didn’t get the chance.

While he was planning forever, Jen had mentioned to a barista in passing that she loved how he made her chai tea and they’d had their moment in the middle of a coffee shop, gasping and giving each other matching wide-eyed grins.  

It wasn’t her fault, he knew that.

She wasn’t looking, wasn’t unhappy with him.

Bonds didn’t work like that.

It didn’t matter that he was in love with her, or that she was in love with him - she was meant to be with someone else.  He could see the change in her the second she walked through the door, her eyes still wide and her freckled face so beautifully flushed.  Sonny was about to ask if she’d run into another one of her favorite Broadway stars but she turned to look at him and it wasn’t excitement in her gaze - it was guilt.  And he knew.  Knew their time was over, knew she belonged with someone else.  Someone other than him.  For the first time, Sonny could see with his own eyes the difference between love and a bond.

There was affection and then there was certainty.

There was patience and then there was softness.

There was in love and then there was  _ breathless _ .

Something he hadn’t managed to find for himself until thirteen years later, with a man who had almost no patience with him whatsoever and eyes green enough to kill.  A sharp tongue, a quick wit.  A brilliant mind that would have scared him off had he not been so smitten.  Now Sonny hadn’t quite learned how to breathe again in long weeks and all he can do is laugh about it.  Laugh because now it was his turn.  His turn to feel so certain of the two of them, so connected to another person.  So shaky and new and alive.  All those year ago he felt strong, felt invincible.

Now he knew.

Some love made you strong.  

Real love made you weak.

They were going to go on a real date, he decided.  Reservations and everything.  Sonny would pull a month of overtime and he was going to take Rafael somewhere nice. Somewhere he wouldn't be able to afford in a million years under normal circumstances.  He'd have to do his homework to find somewhere Rafael hadn't already been, but he didn't mind doing the work.  Not when the prize was so good.  Wine, good food, maybe dessert so he could taste the chocolate on Rafael’s tongue when he got him home and pinned him against the wall.  Sonny would create a million moments, all of them distinct, so that these early few couldn't touch all the others. 

He’d create a lifetime.

It was this thought pounding so heavily in his head as he paid the fare and jogged into the precinct, tie still loose and scalp subtly aching from long minutes spent at Rafael’s mercy.  Blood still slightly sluggish from what was arguable one of the best orgasms he’d ever had in his life.  The version of himself who’d walked out of that building a few hours before was nowhere to be found - the version now entering the squad room was tired and a little scatterbrained but ready to work.

He was also happy.

Happier than he'd ever thought one person could be.

“Hey,” he said said as both Rollins and Benson turned to see him approach.  “What do we got?”

“Nothing,” Benson replied, tossing him a file.  “Start calling friends.”

“We got eyes on Shaw?”

“Also in the wind,” Rollins replied, shaking her head.  “Fin is at his place now, no sign of him.”

“So he’s got her,” Sonny declared with an air of finality.

“But it’s only been two hours so he can’t have gotten far,” Benson interjected, phone pressed to her ear.  “Call people, Carisi.  And when you’re done with that list call them all again.  I want an update as soon as you hear something.”

“Sure thing, Lieu.”

He settled into his chair and punched in the top number on the list, a school teacher who had been listed as a reference on Christian’s job application.  A teacher who hadn’t heard from Christian in three years and was no longer interested in vouching for his character after seeing him on television being arrested.  Sonny barely had the chance to ask them to call if they heard something before he heard the phone click in his ear.

It was going to be a long night.

 

**…**

 

Sonny slept in the precinct.  

Fitfully, for about two and a half hours between two-thirty and five in the morning.  As the new guy - perpetually, it seemed - he got the last turn.  He was supposed to get another half hour but suddenly his cell phone was ringing loud enough for him to jump awake and smack his forehead on the top bunk, resulting in cursing and grappling for the phone in the dark so he could make it shut the hell up.  

“Carisi,” he answered, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Detective Carisi?”

Familiar voice, no name came to mind.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Brooke, Christine Shaw’s nurse.  The night nurse told me you were looking for Christian,” she said and Sonny sat bolt upright, this time on the edge of the bed so he didn’t brain himself again.  

“Yeah, Brooke, hi,” he said hurriedly.  “Have you heard from him?”

“No, he’s not here and he hasn’t called,” she replied, clearing her throat.  “But, um… but Christine is awake and she seems pretty with it this morning.  Your sergeant said to call if we thought she could handle questions and I still had your card from a while back.”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, standing and looking for his jacket.  “I’m on my way to you.  Any way of knowing how long she’ll be lucid?”

“No, not really.  We’re going to try and eat some and she can’t take her pills until thirty minutes after that, so maybe an hour, hour and a half?  If it’s a good day.”

“Okay, I’m coming.  See you in a few.”

“Drive safe,” she told him and he ended the call, trying to wake up enough to get his bearings.  

Sonny charged out of the crib to let the everyone know where he was going, grabbing the car keys from Fin and a cold cup of coffee from the breakroom.  The squad was still mostly in an uproar so no one paid him much mind as he took off, only sticking his head into the Lieutenant’s office to let her know.  She nodded and told him to call in with anything he found out and then he was out the door, exhaustion subsiding just long enough for him to focus on the task at hand.  When he climbed behind the wheel it was five forty-five.  The sun was barely up.  There wasn’t a whole lot of foot traffic yet, either.  The partiers were in bed and the workers weren’t up yet.  

He made it in less than twenty minutes.

Charging up the stairs three at a time didn’t hurt either, not when it meant getting to the apartment even faster.  Brooke had obviously been waiting on him, opening the door a few seconds after his first knock.  She gave him a weak smile and stood aside to let him in.

“Christine is in the living room.  She’s eating,” she told him softly as she locked the door behind him and he hung back, letting her go first.  He didn’t want to charge into a sick woman’s house, scare the living daylights out of her.  Not when he wasn’t sure just how much she knew about the trouble her son was in.

“Has Christian talked to you much in the last few weeks?” he asked her, keeping his voice down.  

She shook her head.

“No, nothing.  Nothing other than how his mom is doing, what he can do to help her.  He seemed… he seemed more like the kid I knew before all this.”

“That’s uh - that’s good, I guess.”

“He said that doctors came to visit him for a little while when he was in jail,” she said and Sonny didn’t miss the inquisitive look in her eyes.  “Does that mean-”

“We can’t comment on that,” he told her softly and she nodded.  “But maybe Christian wasn’t entirely himself.”

“I thought about that,” she said on a sigh as they walked into the living room and she turned her attention back to her patient.  “Christine, you’ve got someone to see you.”

“Me?” she asked, clearly surprised.

Christine Shaw was barely in her forties and looked at least twenty years older.  Frail, eyes sunken.  IVs in both hands.  Her dark hair was short and uneven, probably just growing back after chemo made it all fall out.  It broke his heart, made him shift uncomfortably on his feet.  Sonny wanted to pray for her.  Instead he stepped closer and offered a hand, doing his best to smile.

“Detective Sonny Carisi, ma’am,” he told her, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.  I’m Christine,” she said absently, shaking his hand with a weak grip.  “Pull up a chair if you want, Sonny.  Do you want something to drink?  I usually have a little coffee in the morning.”

“Coffee sounds great, if you don’t mind,” he said and Christine shook her head, Brooke already leaving the room to shuffle around the kitchen.  

“You’re here for Christian,” Christine said suddenly and Sonny looked back at her in surprise.  “There was a man here yesterday, I think.  Last night maybe.  I remember him checking Christian’s room and saying he wasn’t there.”

Sonny nodded. 

“That was a friend of mine, Fin.”

“Is Christian in trouble?” she asked, mouth severe and obviously concerned.  It made her look that much more fragile.  

Sonny glanced down at her hands, at the IVs and the bruises.

A few months, he remembered Brooke saying.

“No,” he answered kindly.  “No, he’s not in trouble.  We were just hoping to find him.  A friend from work hasn’t seen him in a little while and we’re just wanting to make sure he’s okay.”

She nodded thoughtfully and waited while the nurse handed Sonny a steaming mug.  It smelled strong and he made a note thank her profusely later.  He took a sip and barely avoided moaning - it was strong and it was hot, and he’d fight anybody who ever told him God wasn’t real.

“Mmmm, thank you.  That’s terrific,” he told her and took some comfort in Christine’s pleased smile.  They paused momentarily so Brooke could offer a handful of pills in myriad colors and shapes, so many Sonny couldn’t actually tell how many there were.  “So, Christine.  How is Christian doing?”

“He’s good.  Such a good kid,” she said, smiling more easily now.  “He struggled in high school.  Not socially or anything, he was a great baseball player, but schoolwork was hard.  He dropped out but I understood - school’s not for everybody.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed.  “I saw he was studying for the GED, though.”

She nodded.  “He passed.  A month or two ago, I think.”

Over a year, Sonny remembered.

Time was fluid when you were out of it all the time, he guessed. 

“Did he keep any friends from high school?” he asked.

“He mentions a few here and there, but they mostly talk on the computer I think,” she said.  “It’s just work friends now.  They’re all older, though.  They just think he’s the goofy kid they all have to watch out for.  You know how it goes.”

Sonny nodded.  “Yeah, I was the goofy kid not too long ago myself.  Do any of them hang out with Christian after work?  Someone he might stay with if he needed to?”

She shook her head.

“Most have families, I think.”

They did, Sonny thought.  He’d checked with every single one of them around eleven o’clock last night.  None of them had seen Christian in weeks, since his arrest.  Most made a point of telling him that they wanted nothing to do with the psycho.  That part got left out, though.  Another small mercy he could afford her even if she wouldn’t remember later anyway.  

“Has Christian mentioned anyone else?  Anyone new in his life?”

She smiled.

“Heather.”

Sonny cleared his throat.

“Um, what about Heather?”

“He loves her so much,” she said wistfully and Sonny feels something sick turn in his stomach.  Behind him Brooke sucks in a breath.  “I told him… I told him to go get her.  He was just so sure, you know.  Like boys are at that age.  And I told him there was only one way to find out - to go and tell her how he felt.”

His mouth went dry.

He knew what she was talking about.  Encouraging her kid, telling him to get some courage and go for the girl of his dreams.  She couldn’t have known what it would result in.  She couldn’t have known what that bond would turn her son into.  A danger to others, a danger to himself.  Someone willing to go to the extreme of kidnapping and rape to prove his bond.

“He talked about her a lot, huh?” he finally managed, offering a weak smile.  

“Oh, nonstop,” she laughed.  “I think… I think it was important to him, to have that family.  He wanted what he never had growing up.”

Sonny nodded, taking another long drink from the cup in his hands.  

“Christian’s dad not in the picture?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” she laughed.  “Didn’t want anywhere near the picture, Gabe.  He was this hotshot up and coming hedge fund guy and I was just his boss’s secretary he was seeing under the old geezer’s nose.  I found I was pregnant and he bolted.  Didn’t hear from him again.”

“Were you-” he started, unsure of how to finish.

“Soulmates?” she asked and still there was a hint of a fond smile to her voice.  Even knowing how it turned out, she still managed to smile.  “Yeah, we were.  We had our moment the night I told him about Christian.  Got dressed up, made him dinner.  Told him we had a little one coming and that I wanted a family with him and  _ boom _ .  There he was, just like he was always there.”

Sonny smiled, for real this time.

“Gets you, doesn’t it?” he asked and she smiled a little wider.

“It does,” she admitted before taking a deep breath and continuing.  “But he didn’t handle it too well, said he wasn’t after that, and we didn’t see each other again.  I got a job somewhere else because I couldn’t take seeing him every day.  And we got by okay, me and Christian.  I never asked him for a dime, not even when I knew he was making close to a million a year by that time.”

“That’s a tough thing to do,” he marveled.  “Raising a boy on your own like that.”

“Christian was good.  He’s a good boy,” she said on a sigh.  “Anyway, Gabe died when Christian was five.  Driving one of his fancy sports cars too fast on ice.  Died on impact.  Woke me up in the middle of the night.  It’s crazy how you can get so used to that second heartbeat.  It’s normal, you mostly ignore it, but once it stops your whole life stops with it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly, breath hitching a little in his chest.  “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

“We make it.  We always found a way,” she said.  “That’s why… I think that’s why Christian is so desperate for her, anyway.  I wanted to give him a whole family but it doesn’t always work out that way.”

“No,” he agreed.  “It doesn’t.”

Christine’s eyes fluttered momentarily.  

The first of her pills kicking in.

“I think that’s why he got so excited about that letter,” she said and Sonny cocked his head to the side.

“Letter?  The ones he wrote to Heather?”

She shook her head.

“The one from Gabe’s dad, back around Christmas,” she said on a long sigh.  “Found one of Christian’s sonograms from back then in some of Gabe’s things.  He was feeling sentimental, he said.  Found the sonogram.  Couldn’t believe that Gabe had a child all this time.  Wouldn’t have ever found us if my name hadn’t been on the screen.”

Her head leaned back on the pillow, eyes heavy.

“Did they talk to each other?” Sonny asked, feeling the clock ticking.  

“Hmm?”

“Christian and his grandfather,” he clarified.  “Did they talk to each other?”

Christine shrugged, sluggish.  Her eyes stayed closed this time, her breathing slowing down.  

“Probably.  I gave him the letter and said it was up to him.  I can’t imagine him turning it down.”

Sonny stood, getting close enough to see the thin blue veins on her temples.  

“Hey, Christine I know you’re tired, okay?” he said, “And I’m really sorry to keep bugging you but before you go to sleep can you tell me his name?  Christian’s dad?”

“Gabe,” she sighed.

“Gabe what?” 

“Gabe,” she said in answer and her eyes opened again, soft and loving and leveled in his direction. 

Sonny slumped.

“Christian,” she said, smiling.  “You’re growing up so fast.  Look at how big a man you are now.”

Christine was gone.  

Living somewhere in the timeless haze.  

Sonny took the time to pat her hand and tell her to get some rest before picking up his coffee cup and downing the remainder. She was sound asleep before he’d even left the room.  Brooke was waiting for him in the kitchen, mouth drawn into a tight line.  Her shoulders looked heavier than they had when he’d first walked in the door.  

“Thank you,” she said before he had the chance to speak.  “Thank you for being so kind to her.  She enjoyed having you.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say to that.

“Do you… do you happen to know Christian’s father or grandfather?” he asked hopefully, not all that surprised when Brooke shook her head.  

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Has anyone been around lately?” he asked.  “An older man, maybe?”

“No.  But he’s been on the phone a lot.  Occasionally he sneaks downstairs for a few minutes at a time.  He comes right back up, though.  He doesn’t leave much.”

Meeting someone, maybe.

Meeting a long-lost grandfather.

A long-lost grandfather with his rich father’s estate, more than capable of posting bail in the six figures.  

He just needed a name, and there was a niggling idea in the back of his mind that he might know where to find it.

Sonny thanked Brooke again for the coffee, apologized for interrupting their morning, and reiterated his instruction to call if she heard or thought of anything.  She was happy to see him go, he thought.  Not that he blamed her at all.  He was a harbinger of pain and chaos for this particular family.

It was just after seven by the time he made it back to the street.  Caffeine was buzzing in his system and the possibility of a lead had gifted him with a mood lighter than air.  He knew it was early, knew the man wouldn’t be happy, but still ended up pulling his phone from his pocket and navigating to the favorites section of his contact list.  The call icon dared him and he pressed it with a smirk.

Rafael answered on the sixth ring.

“It’s too early for this,” he said in greeting and Sonny chuckled.  

“Good morning to you too.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to pick your brain,” Sonny told him and Rafael gave a grunt in response.  Adorable.  “When Shaw made bail a while back, you mentioned it being an anonymous donor to his church’s fundraiser, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Christian’s recently made contact with a paternal grandfather.  A man with money, as it turns out,” he said, pacing on the sidewalk outside the apartment building.  

“Name?”

“No clue,” he confessed.  “His ma was pretty out of it.  Cancer.  More pills than I’ve ever seen one person take in my life.”

Rafael made a noise that could have either been pity or dismay.

“You know, though,” Sonny started again, “Writing that kind of check wouldn’t be anonymous.  It would have to go somewhere.”

“You want a warrant.  First for the church’s records, and then for this grandfather’s.”

He grinned despite the fact that Rafael wasn’t there to see him do it.

“How’d you guess?”

Rafael chuckled darkly.

“Just a feeling,” he replied.  

“In the meantime I’ve got a little bit of a lead on the dad, so I’ll see what I can chase down from that angle,” Sonny sighed.  “Maybe we’ll meet in the middle and get somewhere on this by the end of the day.”

Another grunt.

“You’ll have your warrant in a few hours,” Rafael assured him and Sonny could hear the rustle of blankets in the background.  “Anything else?  Or can I spend the twenty minutes before my alarm in peace?”

“What?  You don’t want my company?” he asked and heard his surly scoff over the line.  “Come on.  I’ll use my bedroom voice.  You’ll like it, I promise.”

“I like you better after eight in the morning.”

“Ah, don’t be like that Raf,” he said playfully.  “Besides, we both know you love me all the time.”

_ Click. _

Sonny looked at the screen, already knowing what he’d find.

An ended call because apparently the man had no sense of humor this early in the morning.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed and pulled up a text message.  He thought about tempting fate, about pushing his luck with a smart comment, but he didn’t get the chance.  The thread was open on his phone and suddenly the blinking three dots appeared.  Rafael had beaten him to the punch.  Sonny waited patiently until Rafael’s reply popped up on the screen.

_ Be safe. _

Knowing Rafael like he did, those two words were an  _ I love you  _ in bright neon lights, announced with fanfare.  Sonny was quick to type back his reply, knowing that Rafael would spend those precious seconds worrying about how much of himself he was willing to show in any one interaction.  Worried that Sonny wouldn’t reply, or wouldn’t appreciate his fawning.

_ I love you too, Rafi. _

Both his hearts skipped a beat and he slipped his phone back in his pocket, doing his best not to whistle on the way back to his car.

 

**…**

 

Rafael strolled into the 16th with a warrant for the financial records of one Michael Durham, father of the deceased Gabriel Durham, the judge’s signature still fresh on the page.  It was closing in on six o’clock but you couldn’t tell from the sight in front of him.  Everyone looked frantic, the uniformed officers marching around or taking calls while the detectives pounded on keyboards and looked harried.  Olivia was in her office, phone pressed to her ear, hair tied up and glasses off while she rubbed her eyes.  Nothing about her suggested she was ready for a talk so he passed off the pale blue fold of paper and one of the two cups of coffee in his hand.  She mouthed a quick thank you before going back to whoever was on the phone.  He stuck around long enough to hear her introduce herself - credentials and all, suggesting the presence of brass - before stepping back out into the squad room.  Looking for a particular blond head that didn’t seem to be there.

Sergeant Tutuola was at his desk, also on the phone.  Writing something down, scowl firmly in place.  The way he was gouging the paper with his pen suggested he wasn’t liking whatever he was hearing.  Rafael decided to avoid him.

Rollins was nowhere to be found either.

It looked like his choices were interrupting Olivia’s important phone call or taking his chances with an unhappy sergeant.  An unhappy sergeant who he’d never seen be aggressive with anyone other than a rowdy suspect - there was a chance Rafael would make it out unscathed.    

“Sergeant,” he said as he approached Fin’s desk, the man nodding in acknowledgment.  “Where’s Carisi?”

“He’s in the Crib getting a few winks before the night shift starts,” Fin replied and immediately went back to his phone call.  “Yeah, I’m here Rollins.  Go ahead.”

That was his cue.

Rafael wound his way through the bustling squad room and found the heavy metal door.  He thought of it as the barracks.  He tapped a soft knock to let Sonny know he was coming in but he didn’t hear a sound in response, suggesting he might be sleeping too deeply to hear him.  Rafael pushed the door open and peeked inside, seeing nothing but darkness and the vague outline of Sonny’s tall body on a short twin bed.  Stepping inside, he closed the door quietly behind him and looked for somewhere he could leave Sonny’s espresso where he’d see it when he woke up.  He settled on the bench a few feet away where Sonny’s jacket and tie were set aside, crumpled as though taken off in a hurry and thrown.  

He clicked his tongue.

Sonny had very few clothes Rafael would deem worthy of wearing and this was how he treated them.  After setting the coffee down, he bent to pick them up and took a minute to smooth them out.  Frowning at the already forming wrinkles, wondering to himself if he had another tie in his office that could replace this one - a pale number with stripes light enough to show the coffee stains down the middle.

The man was a walking disaster.

“You doing my laundry already, Raf?” a gravelly voice asked from behind him, sending a mild shiver up his spine.  It was a nice sound, Sonny barely awake.  He wanted to hear it a lot more often.  “I figured you’d at least let me move in first.”

Rafael scoffed and turned around to see Sonny lying on his side, propped up on one elbow.  Grinning.  Dark circles under his eyes, a hint of stubble on his jaw, and still looking at him like he was the nicest thing he’d seen all day.  Which, judging by the chaos outside of this room, was probably true.

“I wouldn’t have to do your laundry if you treated what you have with any modicum of respect,” he snarked in return, taking another moment to press his tie into the correct shape before setting them down.  Sonny only chuckled.  It seemed he was immune to Rafael’s barbs now.  

“Yeah, yeah.  That for me?” he asked, nodding to the cup a few feet away.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Your ability to forget the fact that you caught me folding your clothes,” he replied, picking the coffee in question up again and waggled it in his fingers.  “Caffeine for silence?”

“What clothes?  I never saw a thing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said and walked toward him, smiling when Sonny scooted back on the already tiny bed to make room for him.  He handed the cup over and Sonny brought it instantly to his lips, taking a long drink.  Rafael had to struggle not to watch the long line of his throat as it worked.

He failed.

Miserably.

“Jesus.  I think I’m dreaming,” Sonny confessed in little more than a whisper, clear blue eyes fluttering open again.  

“I don’t think it was that good,” Rafael told him sarcastically before claiming the edge of the bed for his own.  He was close enough to feel the man’s sleepy warmth melding to his side as he twisted and caught Sonny’s full lips in a light kiss.  

Why did it already feel like it had been forever?

“Mmm,” Sonny murmured against his lips, still sharing air.  “Definitely dreaming.”

“You’re hopeless,” Rafael told him fondly.  

“Only for you,” he replied, sneaking another kiss before going back to the coffee.  Rafael was flattered beyond belief that he ranked above caffeine - were their situations switched, Sonny wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near him until his second cup was in the process of being digested.  

Rafael waited patiently while he watched Sonny down the rest and put the empty cup to the side.  He cleared his throat and looked back up at Rafael.  God, he looked tired.  

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Rafael said before he’d known he was going to speak.  “I’ll go, let you get some more sleep.  God knows when you’ll have the chance again.”

“Nah, stay.  You’re better for me than sleep anyway.”

The sap.

Rafael let that one slide.

“Any luck?” he asked and Sonny shook his head.  “Both phones tracked to nowhere, turned off.  The phone records you got us turned up nothing, no contact between them or between Christian and Heather.  Heather’s mom did pick him out of a photo lineup as the man who’d been hanging out on their street.  Durham’s wife still swears he’s on a fishing trip, never took his phone with him because it’s still on his nightstand.  Has no idea who Christian Shaw is or that they’re related at all.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Pretty sure I do.”

“So, what is it then?” Rafael asked.  “He just gets a wild hair to disappear with his previously-unknown grandson and the girl he raped and held hostage?”

Sonny shook his head.  “Nah, I don’t think so.  I think he feels guilty.”

“Good.  He should be guilty.”

“No, not about this,” he replied, waving him off.  “I think he feels guilty that his son just bailed.  Not just on his soulmate, but on their kid.  Then he died.  So this is correcting that mistake - not only by paying to get the kid out of jail, but also in helping him stay with his soulmate like his son refused to.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully.

“That makes him dangerous, you know,” he said quietly.  “Knowing there’s a lot of emotions wrapped up there.  A dead son, an entire relationship he was deprived of not just with his own child but also his grandson.  Trying to make too many things right and desperate enough to go to extremes.”

Sonny nodded.

“It’ll work out,” he said noncommittally and reached out to grab Rafael’s tie.  “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.  C’mere.”

“We’re at work.”

“Good.  Then I’m getting paid to kiss you.”

Rafael let himself be pulled down, a playful peck pressed to the tip of his chin.  Then to one corner of his mouth.  Then the other.  

“Tease,” Rafael accused before leaning down and taking the kiss for himself.  

Sonny tasted like coffee.

Sonny tasted like Sonny.

It wasn’t hard for him to decide which tasted better.

He tried to pull away, knowing he’d lose, knowing Sonny would only hold him tighter.  Rafael had started to suspect it was less about the fight and more about Sonny’s insistence on keeping him close.  It turned out, after almost five decades of swearing to the contrary, he enjoyed feeling wanted. 

Which he was definitely feeling now, Sonny’s lips wandering away from his own in search of undiscovered territory.  His cheek, his jaw.  His temple.  A graze of lips so soft across his ear that he jumped and groaned when Sonny sank his teeth into the lobe.  Rafael hissed, leaned closer.  Gripped the thin sheet below him so hard his knuckles went white and a hot coil of want curled low in his stomach as Sonny’s mouth sucked and pulled on the scrap of flesh.

“Sonny,” he gasped and he should really have been a little more embarrassed at the wanton sound of his voice.  

“Mmmm.”

“Sonny, your coworkers are outside,” he insisted without a single attempt to move.  “All of them.”

He parted long enough to counter, “They think I’m sleeping.”

Attached again.

Sonny was trying to kill him.

Or make him suffer through the embarrassment of leaving the precinct with an impressive hardon.  

“Shit,” was all he could manage in response, hand finding the back of Sonny’s neck to keep him closer.  “God, how much did you sleep today?”

“Not quite three hours last night,” Sonny replied, finally relinquishing him in search of the thrumming beat in his neck.  “About an hour just now.”

“You should be exhausted,” Rafael assessed, dragging his thumb over the column of Sonny’s throat.  A small cry escaped between the man’s lips and Rafael had no idea how they’d managed to find sensitive spots on instinct but here they were, cramped on half of a twin bunk bed with Rafael seriously considering locking the door.

“I am,” Sonny told him.

“Then how-”

“I’m tired, Rafi,” he chuckled, “Not dead.”

Rafael couldn’t agree more.

“Besides,” he continued, “You folded my laundry, remember?  That does things to a guy.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and he could feel the quick breaths of Sonny’s laughter across his neck before pulling away.  So much for forgetting all about it.

“Yes, well.  I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” he said sarcastically but somehow still breathless, taking in the slight swell of Sonny’s lips, kissed plump and smiling.  “Now I know how to get you going, at least.  All it takes is housework.  We can have an exchange - laundry for foreplay, vacuuming for a quickie.  Dishes for the main event.  If I manage to get the entire house in a day I’m sure I can talk you into taking my name.”

Sonny snickered and then froze.  Rafael frowned, confused, until he replayed what he’d just said then he just wanted to hit himself.   _ Taking his name? _  It was basically a proposal and they’d been together for what?  A  _ night _ ?  Jesus, there was stupid and then there was-

“Rafi, you’re a genius,” he whispered, wide-eyed.  

Wait, what?

“No, Sonny, I’m sorry.  That was sudden and we haven’t really-”

“No, not that!” he cried and sat up, almost knocking Rafael off the tiny bed and onto the floor as he stood and started to pace in front of him.

“Hey, watch it.  I’m sitting here.”

“No, listen!  Gabriel Durham died in 2001, right?”

Rafael struggled to keep up - he was still foggy and at least half-hard.

“Sure,” he answered in lieu of anything more substantial.

“He had no other family.  Just his parents, right?”

“With you so far.”

“Which makes them the recipient of all his assets.  The entire estate of a very wealthy hedge fund manager, which would have included cash and stocks and cars-”

“-and property,” Rafael finished.  “They could still own property under their son’s name.  His estate would pay the taxes, it wouldn’t show up under his own name or financials.”

Sonny nodded, eyes wide awake now with the thrill of discovery.  

“It’s a good thought, detective,” Rafael admitted as a smile slipped onto his face.  “You’d probably better go share it with someone other than me.  Preferably someone who can do something about it other than tell you how brilliant you are.”

“Only a little brilliant.  And only because of you,” Sonny swore and stooped to press another hasty kiss to his mouth.  “I gotta go - thanks for the coffee.  I love you.”

His traitorous heart threatened to burst.

Sonny was out the door in an instant, boisterous voice now commanding the attention of the rest of the team while Rafael was left to sit in the eye of the storm.

“I love you too,” he said finally to an empty room, grin tilting up the corner of his mouth.

It was fine.

Sonny already knew.


	9. What Sonny Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny takes Rafael's lead and runs with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter?!? So soon!?!? I know, I'm surprised too. All I can do is thank you for your continued interest and hope you continue to enjoy this story that was supposed to be like four chapters and is now eleven.
> 
> Special thanks go to Robin Hood, tobeconpicuous, and booyahkendell again for brainstorming for this chapter. All the best parts of this belong to Robin, as they helped beta as well as provided me with ideas to keep the action rolling. Robin is too good for me but I'll continue to take advantage as long as they'll let me. 
> 
> I adore you all. Thanks for your sweet words of encouragement. <3

_ **Chapter Nine : What Sonny Says** _

  


At the time of his death, Gabriel Durham owned a lot of stuff.

About six figures worth of clothing, donated.  

Three cars - a Mercedes, a Lexus, and the Camaro he’d been driving the night he’d skidded over an ice patch into a cluster of thick oak trees.  All sold, the Camaro totaled and taken for scrap metal.

Art, all sold or donated.

Roughly one-point-five million in stocks for his company, which probably would have been worth a lot more now had his parents held onto them and let them mature since Gabriel’s firm only did better with time.  Still, they sold them off and donated roughly half to a homeless charity in the city.  The rest was used to pay off their home and buy a new one, somewhere away from the city.  More specifically, a well-off suburb in the northern half of the state.  

One luxury apartment in the city, sold.

A timeshare in the Bahamas, sold.

One hunting cabin on private land in the Catskills.

Not sold.

Property taxes were current, still in Gabriel Durham’s name.

It was on several acres, not far from the mountains and the lake.  Ideal for hunting when the season opened up, not that Sonny had even a passing interest in killing things for sport.  The five-bedroom monstrosity would have been perfect for taking the bosses out for a week in the wilderness.  Somewhere they could drink and share war stories - reaffirm some ridiculous notion of masculinity and power that seemed so prevalent among the stupidly rich.  

Also under Gabriel’s name were three firearms - an antique revolver valued at several thousand.  A hunting rifle.  A shotgun.  No records were filed regarding changes of ownership or bills of sale, no tax credit for a donation, so Sonny figured there was a good chance Michael Durham still had access to them.  Wherever they happened to be.  He didn’t know if he knew how to use them, of even if he’d be willing to use them, but it was safer to act like he was.  Christian seemed more likely to but it didn’t mean they had the luxury of ruling out the grandfather.

That was why he listened, nodding intently as Olivia relayed the same information to the uniforms on site.  The moon hung heavy over the thick trees, casting an ominous blue glow across the local black and whites and the sedans from their own motor pool.  Summer heat was only partially alleviated at the higher altitude and Sonny’s Kevlar vest was strapped tight over his torso, sweat dotting the skin between his shoulder blades.  The K-9s next to him sat, panting and alert, waiting for the first chance to tear through the trees.  Their handlers each had a bag of Heather’s clothing for the scent, although he was dearly hoping they weren’t needed.

“We don’t know how well Shaw or Durham might know this area,” Benson told everyone and the warning therein was understood.  Stay alert.  “We don’t know if they’re armed but it’s safer to assume they are.  Christian Shaw has a history of violence against this girl.  Since his arrest we’ve been investigating the possibility of an overreaction and it seems likely, at least at the psychological level.  Attempting to take her from him will be met with a fight and we’re not sure how willing he is to hurt her.  Just know that he’ll have no problems hurting _you_ if he has to.”  

Everyone nodded intently, still focused on her.  A few of the younger local cops might have had hearts in their eyes.  Maybe one or two of the older ones, too.

He got it.

The lieutenant had an intensity that grabbed your attention.  He’d been compelled to follow her lead instantly upon meeting her, and he had a feeling that would have happened even if he hadn’t been raised in a family of authoritative women.

“If you have the chance to bring him in without violence, do it,” she told them all seriously.  “But don’t underestimate him, don’t give him any slack.  Be safe out there.  My detectives will give instructions on assignments.  Carisi, you and your team will be in charge of approaching the cabin first.”

“Got it,” he told her and turned to the two uniforms behind him while everyone else slowly fanned out.  Two younger guys, looking eager to help at least - a pretty far departure from the older sheriffs who mostly looked at him like he should still be walking a beat somewhere, not ordering them around.  “Alright, we’re in my unmarked.  I’m heading straight for the door with the warrant, I want you two around back in case they try and make a break for it.  Everyone else will be coming up and surrounding the house once we’re in place.  Any problems, you call it in.  Understood?”

The both nodded.

“Great.  Let’s go.”

They walked back to his car and he got behind the wheel, waiting for the rest of the team to clear from the road before he pulled away.  His help mostly stayed silent, both of them doing their best to maintain a professional face while sending each other meaningful looks that pretty accurately communicated how much more interesting this was than DUI checkpoints.  He chose not to give them hell about it, even if his attention was focused on Heather and trying not to think about what might have happened in the twenty-four hours since she’d been reported missing.  It hadn’t been so long since he was in uniform, bitching about doing the same thing night after night.  

He came up on the turn that led to Durham’s cabin and flipped off the lights, knowing no other officers would be on the path.  The gravel road was littered with pine needles that crunched under his tires as they crawled, windows open, with eyes glued to the structure at the end of the road.  It was small at first, a speck of light around a dense wall of spruce trees.  The light alone was comforting, he thought.  It meant there was a good chance this was the right place - a place secluded enough to hide Heather indefinitely.  Because anything other than hiding the girl was unthinkable to him and he wouldn’t waste time dreading it.

The cabin came up quicker than he was expecting, a circle drive for him to park politely in front.  Lights off still, not alerting anyone to their presence.  Sonny killed the engine and pocketed his keys.  Rafael’s warrant for the property was pressed between his body and the vest like armor.  

“Alright, so-”

“Detective?” one of them interrupted - the older of the two, whose nametag read _Pierce._

“Yeah.”

“The door is already open,” he pointed out and Sonny ducked his head to try and see up the steps.  He couldn’t see anything other than the stairs but didn’t doubt what they saw.

“Doesn’t matter.  Same deal,” he said but was more wary now than he’d been ten minutes ago.  “You two around back, keep your eyes peeled.  Wait and I’ll radio you to come in.”

“Yes, sir,” they answered dutifully and got out of the car.  Sonny stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting until they had gotten into position around either side of the house to walk up.     

He took the steps slowly, listening for any voices from inside.  There were none.  Not exactly comforting at the moment, not when he was really hoping to find someone.  A seventeen-year-old someone whose mother was back in the city, worrying herself sick and praying like her life depended on it.  Light spilled from the open door as he reached the front porch and he wasn’t comforted to peer inside and see what looked like a tornado had swept through the place.  He reached for his radio, keeping his voice low.  

“Lieutenant, in position.  Door’s open.  Looks rough inside.”

“Any sign of Heather?”

“Unsure.  Going in.  My two units should follow.”

Two sets of affirmations rattled back through the radio and he reached for his sidearm, sliding it from its holster but leaving the safety in place.  He pushed the door the rest of the way open and took in his surroundings - a massive living room, with chairs and the coffee table knocked over.  Broken lamps.  No blood, he realized with a long sigh of relief.  He was heartened as he moved through the living room and dining room, checking it as he went.  The two uniforms started in the back of the house, clearing the patio and the rooms on the bottom floor.  They were thorough but not quick, and Sonny had headed up the stairs to the second floor before they’d finished searching their half of the first floor.  

The quiet was disconcerting.

Shouldn’t there be at least a TV going or something?

Upstairs there were two more guest rooms that were untouched.  The guest bathroom was stocked, and it looked like recently.  There was a green toothbrush with a brand new tube of toothpaste sitting on the sink, their packaging in the small trashcan on the floor.  He cleared the room and and moved on, finding an empty guest room and then one with a packed suitcase on the bed.  Gun drawn, he moved quickly and silently through the rest of the room.  Checked the closet, checked under the bed.  It was only after he was certain there was no one there before he doubled back to the suitcase, checking the tag and finding _M. Durham_ printed in narrow block letters.  

“Durham’s been here.  Recently,” he said into his radio.

“Good.  That means we’re not far behind,” Benson replied.  “The house clear?”

“Not yet.  Give me a minute.”

“Get a move on it, Carisi.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m going.”

He left the room and headed to the master bedroom just as he heard the uniforms coming up the stairs.  Footsteps heavy, stage whispering between the two of them.  He stopped in the hallway just long enough to give them a warning glare before they shut up and followed.  Normally his looks weren’t all that intimidating - mostly just sarcastic.  Rafael must be rubbing off on him.  He was grateful for the results, anyway, as they fell into step behind him as they headed toward the master suite at the end of the hall.  The first thing he noticed was the heavy lock on the top of the door - ensuring no one was getting out.  

It was unlocked now, cracked open.  

Sonny got to the door and pressed his ear to it, hearing nothing.

Pushing it open, he turned to aim behind the door while the two men behind him fanned out and covered him.  They cleared the other half of the room and the bathroom, calling _all clear_ after each.  On first glance the room was empty - windows nailed shut.  The bed unmade, what looked like female clothing on the floor.  Sonny approached it cautiously, afraid of what he would find.  He was relieved to find no blood, no rips or tears or buttons missing.  Nothing that looked like it might fit Christian, which he found interesting.  The jeans and red shirt were what Heather’s mother reported her missing in yesterday.  He tossed them onto the bed and called to tell Benson that Heather had definitely been here.  She was halfway through the reply, asking if she’d been moved, before the younger officer called for his attention.

“Detective Carisi?”

“Yeah,” he called, turning to find him in a walk-in closet across the room.  “What do you got?”

“Bad news,” he answered and felt his stomach drop as he approached.  He rushed the rest of the way, preparing for the worst.

Heather was seventeen - just a kid.

Heather had already survived this once.

She lived through a nightmare and came out pissed off and ready to fight.

Sonny stepped inside the closet and almost collapsed.  

There was no body - only a floor full of red cartridges, spilled in every direction.  Shotgun cartridges, he realized with a start.  He followed the mess until his eyes landed on an open gun case - one with a foam insert in the perfect shape of a shotgun.  Sonny would have been willing to bet that the serial number matched the one belonging to Gabriel Durham.  The only problem was that he didn’t know who had it - Christian, who seemed to want Heather alive?  Or his grandfather, who had no emotional attachment to the girl whatsoever?

“Shit,” he murmured and suddenly the empty house felt so much worse.  “Lieu?  House is clear but we got a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Missing shotgun, spilled ammo.  Unused.  Heather’s clothes in the bedroom but no Heather.”

“Damn it,” she sighed in his ear.  “We’re headed to you.  I’ll have the K-9s prepped if this turns into a search.”

He swallowed, hoping a search would be unnecessary.  

“Copy that,” he replied instead before turning to his sidekicks.  “One of you stay here, mark the evidence and take some pictures.  Think you can do that?”

The younger one nodded his head and holstered his weapon, taking out his phone instead.  

“I want you taking the guest room with Durham’s suitcase,” he told the other.  “Mark and photograph.  CSU will probably be here eventually but it’s better to do this while it’s fresh and before it gets searched more thoroughly.”

Clear on his directions, the officers went into motion and Sonny headed back downstairs.  The rest of the team was on foot and it would take them a few minutes to get there - more than enough time for him to sit and worry, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to figure out how in the hell Shaw and Durham knew they were coming with enough time to clear out of the place.  Was it dumb luck?  Was this only ever a stopping point?  Sonny had a hard time believing that Durham was giving up his entire life to go on the run with his violent grandson and their captive.

So what the hell were they doing?

Still thinking, he walked through the mess of the living room and tried to figure out just what they were looking at.  

A struggle, obviously.  It wasn’t hard to see the evidence of that with half the furniture turned over.  But who struggled?  Christian and his grandfather, arguing about next steps?  Heather, trying to escape?  There was no blood and that was a good sign, but if the fight got taken somewhere else - along with the gun - there could still be plenty of trouble ahead.  Sonny stared at all of it, teeth grinding together.  He couldn’t tell if he was more worried about the fact that there was a gun in play or the fact that Shaw seemed to be thinking ahead of them.

He was thinking about that when he walked out onto the porch again, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  The air was different in the mountains.  Thinner, fresher.  It didn’t do much to provide him with an epiphany as to Heather’s whereabouts - or Shaw’s next move - but it was nice.  Quiet, peaceful.  

At least until the gunshot.

Sonny’s head jerked in the direction it had come from, his gut clenching in unease.  

The lieutenant’s voice was in his ear instantly.

“Carisi?!” she asked.  “What the hell was that?”

“Not us,” Sonny replied as he took off down the steps.  “I’m checking it out.  My units, stay in the house to rendezvous with Lieutenant Benson.”

“Carisi!” she crackled over the line, “Take backup!”

“Rollins, I’m headed southeast away from the house.  Meet me?”

“On my way,” she replied and if he strained he could just hear Benson’s exasperated sigh from down the road.  

Sonny took off down the steps and across the yard, barely a pause in his stride as he broke through the tree line into the wilder part of the property.  Running was difficult but he made himself go as quickly as possible, jumping over exposed tree roots and ducking under branches.  Another gunshot rang out, this time closer.  Showing him the way, even as his heart raced and his thoughts turned dark.  

He kept moving.

In some parts of the forest there was hardly any light at all, the moon mostly blocked, and he was left hoping that he wasn’t traveling in a giant circle.  It wasn’t until he heard the howling of someone in pain that he slowed his steps, breathing hard through his nose to try and cover the noise.  

Moving slow, walking heel to toe to stay quiet over branches and pine needles, Sonny crept toward the sound of whimpering.  His hand hovered over his gun, waiting to get a read on the situation before he considered pulling it.  As he got closer, as the noise got louder, it became obvious that the sound wasn’t feminine.  It was confirmed as soon as he came to a gap in the trees, the moon bright again as it sparkled across the lake.  He could make out Heather’s silhouette perfectly, her short frame standing tall as she struggled with the shotgun and the cartridges in her hand.  Michael Durham was on the ground, writhing and gripping at a wound on the outside of his left thigh.  

His hand left his gun and went for the radio instead.  

“Got Heather.  She’s armed, Durham is injured.  Shaw’s not here,” he whispered.  “Next to the lake on the side closest to the house, I think.”

“Carisi, wait-”

“I’m gonna talk to her,” he told her and turned the radio’s volume down as low as it would go.  She’d yell at him later but he’d deal with it then.  

Sonny stepped forward, out of the trees.  Heather didn’t seem to notice, still fiddling with loading the gun again.  Durham was begging her to let him go but she didn’t seem to hear any of it - her hands were shaking and her breaths were coming fast, muttering under her breath about making sure they’d never come after her ever again.  

“Heather,” he said softly as he approached.  Slowly, gently.  She didn’t seem to hear him, instead finally succeeding in putting the cartridge in one of the barrels and snapping the shotgun back together.  The resulting click seemed to echo in the still night air, rippling over the lakewater and scaring a few birds from the trees.  Michael Durham only added to the cacophony, putting out a low, wheezing moan.  

She aimed.

“Heather,” he tried again, a little louder this time.  Maybe too loud, because rather than dropping the gun she swung it around and aimed it straight at his chest.  

He froze.

He’d never been more aware of the two heartbeats in his chest.

One fast - his.

One slow and calm - Rafael’s.

Rafael, who was waiting on him to get out of this godforsaken forest.

“Heather, it’s me,” he said, hands slowly raising while adrenaline flooded his system.  “It’s Sonny, okay?  I’m here to take you home.”

“What?” she asked, shaking her head.  If she’d held the gun too close to her head when firing there was a chance her ears were still ringing - she might not be able to hear him at all.  

“It’s Sonny,” he said louder and braved a step forward, hoping she’d be able to see him better.  “Remember me?  I brought Amanda with me.  She’s been worried about you.”

It was a hail Mary - a particularly dangerous one.  She was terrified, in a strange place, between her captor and another potential threat.  Armed.  Sonny was lucky she hadn’t fired already.  The vest would protect him from a shot to the chest but at close range any one of the pellets in that buckshot could hit an artery and he’d never walk out of there.  Her finger stayed on the trigger, shaking even as tears rolled down her face.

“Amanda?” she repeated slowly and it seemed to land.  

“Yeah, Amanda’s here,” he said.  “She’s supposed to be meeting me here.  Your mom sent us.”

“She did?” Heather asked tearfully, body visibly trembling now.  “I can go home?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, we’re here to take you home,” he confirmed and felt himself start breathing again when the gun lowered to her side, finger off the trigger.  “Hey, I’m going to come get the gun okay?  Don’t shoot me.”

The wrong thing to say, apparently.  It only made her cry harder.

Sonny stepped close, moving slow, an eye on the shotgun in her hand.  Durham had gone back to yelling in pain, asking for help.  Help Sonny would be obligated to provide once the gun was out of the equation.  Heather offered it to him when he got close enough.  Warily he took it, pulling it from her grasp before backing up again and popping the cartridges out of the barrel.  He kicked them away and tossed the shotgun itself several feet away, out of both her reach and Durham’s.  

“Heather!”

Sonny looked up and saw Rollins coming up, gun drawn.  Asking with an intense stare if it was needed.  He was quick to shake his head.  She holstered it again and ran the rest of the way, feet sliding on the soft sand of the bank but moving pretty damn fast anyway.  

“Hey,” Sonny said, watching Heather bury her hands in her hair and sob.  “Hey, someone’s here to see you.”

The words had time to sink in for maybe a second before Rollins was there, hands on Heather’s shoulders and turning her around.  The touch was all she needed to crumble, collapsing against into the older woman’s embrace.  Rollins took all of it, offering sweet noises and gentle circles on her back while she looked up at Sonny.  Curious, worried.  She must have seen.  He offered her a quick thumbs-up behind Heather’s back while he did his best to take a deep breath.

“Heather, is Christian here?” Rollins asked and Sonny was embarrassed to admit he’d forgotten all about Christian Shaw.  

She shook her head.

“He hasn’t been here all day,” she replied, voice cracking.  “He left to do something right after lunch and hasn’t come back yet.”

“Do you know where he is?”

She shook her head again, going right back to crying.

Sonny stepped aside for a minute to call it in to Benson - Heather was alive, safe.  They needed an ambulance for Durham.  Christian Shaw was unaccounted for.  The lieutenant acknowledged and took his location, promising bodies on the scene within minutes.  All the while Heather’s sobbing continued a few feet away, only mildly comforted by Rollins’ gentle shushing.  

“Is he okay?” Heather finally cried and Rollins looked down.  

“Who, honey?” she asked in a soft voice before shifting her eyes to Durham, who’d gone silent and dazed.  Bleeding from some scattered buckshot to his hip and upper thigh.  “The man who had you is hurt but he’s alive, okay?  He’ll live.  Nothing major.”

“No,” she replied, hiccuping.  “No, Sonny.  Is Sonny okay?  God, I almost-”

“Hey,” Rollins cooed, rubbing her back.  “No, hey, he’s fine.  Don’t worry about it, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Heather sobbed into Amanda’s chest.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t, I didn’t see who he was!  I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“You’re fine,” Rollins assured her but her eyes drew up to meet Sonny’s.  “He’s okay.  He knows.  Don’t you, Carisi?”

“Yeah,” he said in return, hands shaking but walking closer anyway.  Heather turned her head and looked at him balefully, her cheeks tear-streaked and her lip trembling.  He reached out and touched her shoulder, happy when she didn’t flinch away.  “Nothing happened, right?  You’re okay, I’m okay.”

She nodded.

“See?  No damage done.  You did good,” he assured her, happy when his voice didn’t shake.  It was going to take some time for the adrenaline to wind down but he couldn’t be happier that she was alive and in one piece.  “Now let’s get out of here, your ma’s out of her mind right now.”

“She is?”

“Yeah, texting my boss all night,” he replied with a grin, happy when she huffed a teary laugh.  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

 

**…**

 

Sonny’s hands were still shaking an hour and a half later, after Fin had agreed to ride with Durham to the hospital and Olivia left to take Heather home.  The girl was still begging forgiveness for hurting the man even though she’d been assured that everyone knew she was protecting herself.  There wasn’t a jury in the country who would begrudge her that.  She’d even called once to apologize again to Sonny, who was quick to assure her he was fine despite the adrenaline still coursing through his system.  Christian Shaw was still in the wind, although it was mostly agreed upon that he would be going back to his mother if they had truly planned on making a run for it, as Heather had suggested once she’d calmed down.  Uniformed officers were already en route, ready to pick him up.  

Sonny was exhausted.

He’d been awake for going on three days, subsisting on coffee and adrenaline.  By the time it all crashed he was likely to sleep for a week - all he had to do was hope they didn’t catch another serious case for a little while.  There was almost no chance of that whatsoever but a guy could hope.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Rollins told him from the passenger seat, yawning and doing her best to stretch against the barrier of the seat belt.  

“Go for it,” Sonny told her.  “We’ve got, what?  Half an hour till the precinct in this traffic?  That’s enough time for a nap.”

“I can’t sleep in the car,” she replied on a sigh.  “Besides, I might not wake up and I’m not sleeping in the parking lot.  I’m better off just staying awake.”

“Suit yourself,” he told her and he was surprised by the slight well of nausea that built in his stomach out of nowhere.  He coughed, surprised at the bitter taste of bile on the back of his tongue.

What the hell?

The coughing kept up, getting worse.

He was fine a second ago.

He reached for the cold coffee in the cup holder, washing it down.

Amanda was talking.

“Sorry, what?” he said, clearing his throat.  

“I said you missed your turn,” she said again.

“What?  Sorry, hold on.  Guess I’m tired too,” he said and promptly missed the next turn too.  His hands just… just stayed on the wheel.  Headed straight, to the north.  He knew he was going the wrong way and still he couldn’t bring himself to change direction.

Bile again.

He coughed.

“Carisi, what are you doing?” she asked and reached over to pound her hand on his back.  “What, you choking on something over there?  You forget how to drink without it going down the wrong pipe?”

“Shut up,” he replied hoarsely but something else had started up.  A flare of worry, hot on the back of his neck.  “Jesus, do we have water or something?  That gas station crap isn’t sitting well.”

“Yeah, hold on,” she replied, reaching into the backseat to pull out a half-empty bottle of water from their drive up.  “Hope you don’t mind my cooties.”

“Your kid has drooled on everything I own,” he replied.  “I think we’re beyond that.”

She snorted and handed him the open bottle, watching him with an increasingly concerned expression while he guzzled it down.  

It didn’t do anything for the taste.

Nor the irrepressible desire to keep driving straight.  

What the hell was wrong with him?

“Carisi, you’re starting to worry me,” she said slowly.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t know,” he replied, thoughts racing.  His hands gripped tighter on the wheel.  

“Should we have sent you to the hospital instead of Fin?” she asked gently, kid gloves on.  She was worried.  If she just thought he was crazy she’d be making fun of him - not acting like she was ready to ask him to pull over.  

“No,” he said, even as the first licks of fiery panic touched his skin.  Scalding, repellant.  Even as he voiced his answer, there was a little voice in the back of his head whispering the opposite.  “No, I'm okay.”

“You really don’t seem okay.”

He swallowed, his mouth remarkably dry for someone who’d just downed half a bottle of water.

“I’m fine.”

Sonny wasn’t so sure.

His breathing grew shallow, his thoughts frantic.  A cool sweat broke out at his hairline and the shaking in his hands grew worse.  He coughed some more, his throat threatened to close as he fought off the burn of acid on his tongue.  

Was he having a panic attack?

Jesus Christ, where was this even coming from?

He was fine a second ago.  Now here he was, turning into a certifiable nutcase.  Not thinking straight, getting all worked up despite the fact that nothing was even wrong.  Except it felt like it was.  His hands were clammy, his chest tight, his heart racing.

No.

Not _his_ heart.

The persistent thumping in his chest wasn't coming from the left - it was coming from the right.

 _Rafi_.  

Suddenly his consuming desire to drive north made sense - he wasn’t lost, wasn’t distracted.

He was driving to the district attorney’s office.

His foot pressed harder on the gas.

“What are you doing?” Rollins asked.  “Carisi, what the hell?!”

Any semblance of an answer died on his tongue as Rafael’s heart hammered in his chest.  Insistent, frantic.  Afraid, Sonny realized with a jolt because the fear in simmering in his blood wasn’t his own - it belonged to the man he loved.  Which was terrifying enough on its own because he’d never seen that man afraid of anything in all the years he’d known him.  Every threat just rolled off him, every intimidating glare and every asshole willing to get into his space just failed to create any noticeable effect.  Sonny admired the hell out of that.

Of course, that meant now he was terrified.  Fucking scared out of his mind as Rafael’s heart hit the roof and kept right on racing because what in the holy hell was going to scare Rafael if literal death threats couldn't?

He knew the answer.

He just didn't want to admit it.

Instead he called Rafael’s phone over and over, cursing colorfully when it went to his voicemail and fighting not to toss it out the window when no one picked up.  Desperate to get there faster, he wove in and out of lanes and ran yellow lights.  Recklessly, probably, but he couldn't bring himself to care.  

“You gonna tell me where we’re going at least?” Rollins asked gently and it wasn’t hard for him to hear the undercurrent of apprehension in her voice.  

“Barba’s office,” he answered shortly, thankful at least for another green light.  He was a few short seconds away from flipping on the sirens.  “I’m sorry, I’ve got… I’ve got something I have to check on, okay?  I’m sorry, I’ll be quick I promise.”

Rollins didn’t answer, just nodded and looked anxiously out the window.  Cursing his name, probably.  Figuring out a way to kill him without the body turning up anywhere.  At least until they pulled up to the curb and Sonny had barely put the car in park before pocketing the keys and jumping out the door.  Attention focused on the building ahead of him, he almost didn’t notice Rollins get out of the car behind him until she tried to follow and talk to him about what the hell he was doing.

He didn’t have it in him to explain, not when he felt a sudden crack in his chest that stopped him in his tracks.  

His lungs took in a shaky breath, both his hearts stuttering sickly in his chest - tapping a halting rhythm he knew wasn’t right.  

He felt like he might be sick.

“Rollins.  Amanda.   _Amanda_!” he yelled.  His thoughts all lost in the panic rushing through his veins, the intense focus on the right side of his chest - where Rafael’s heart was beating, slow and stilted.  Irregular, unnatural.  His hand rested over it, as though his protective grasp could do a damn thing.

“What?” Rollins asked, turning wildly as though expecting to find an assailant rather than the sight of her partner, eyes wide, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.  “Jesus, Carisi!  What’s wrong?  What is it?”

“Rafi.  Rafael.  Something’s wrong, he doesn’t feel right.”

“Who?  Wait, _Barba_?”

“Something’s wrong.  He’s hurt.  Call a bus.”

“What are you-?”

“Call a bus!” he cried, rushing forward.  Accidentally bumping into her in his rush to get to the door of the courthouse.  Behind him he heard her on the phone, requesting an ambulance for an ADA who may have been injured on scene.  Sonny rushed up the stairs, clinging to the thready beat in his chest like the lifeline it was.    

A thick, heavy thud.

Several light beats in a row.

He ran faster, took the steps two at a time.

A long pause, another hard kick.

Amanda was running behind him, faster and faster until she overtook him.  She got to the door first, swinging it open and rushing through while his lungs seized and he stumbled, falling to his knees just before he could reach the threshold.  The pain jolting in his knees and shooting up his legs was easily ignored while his entire world narrowed to the crawling cadence in his chest.  Weak, thready.  A rhythm devoid of any rhythm at all.   

Rafael’s heart stopped.

Sonny’s heart stopped with it.


	10. What They Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where?” Sonny asked and it took some concentration to bring his attention back to the man next to him. “Where- fuck, where can I touch you?”
> 
> “Anywhere you want,” he told him honestly, just because it didn’t seem to matter and he wanted to feel Sonny anyway. All his touches were gentle, all seemingly tuned in to the pain that washed over him with even the softest touches, but Rafael wouldn’t tell him to stop. Not on his life, because this was all he wanted a few minutes ago and that hadn’t changed just because he was hurting.
> 
> How many touches could he have left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More pain ahead. Sorry.
> 
> Thank you for all the marvelous feedback on the last chapter - I'm sorry for the cliffhanger but the opportunity was too good to pass up. In any case, I adored reading all your reactions. You're too good to me. <3
> 
> Many thanks to Robin Hood in this chapter, who not only worked as a beta but sat in the Google Docs chat and coached me through it when it was hard to keep my thoughts in line. Fucking MVP for this chapter. Still too good for me, always too amazing, but I'll continue to take advantage because I'm a weak woman.
> 
> Without further adieu.

_**Chapter Ten : What They Fear** _

  
  


Sonny was running.

Rafael knew because he could feel it; the rhythmic beat, faster than normal but not labored.  The effortless uptick that came with youth and regular exercise, he thought bitterly as he eyed the empty glass next to his hand.  Maybe it was delusion to think he could feel the tension in Sonny’s tall frame, the tightness in his mouth as he moved and thought and worried.  There had been a hundred years’ worth of studies disproving any telepathic link between soulmates but Rafael would have sworn to it anyway.  He could feel the apprehension as acutely as if it were his own, the unease evident as it leaked into his body from the beat of Sonny’s heart.  

Leaning back in his chair, Rafael tried to sink into the feeling.

Tried to picture what Sonny was doing.  He knew they were going to the woods - was Sonny hiking up a trail with the dogs?  Rafael could see him volunteer to do something like that, hoping for the best and probably already running a prayer through the back of his mind in case of the worst.  He could also see him trying to run between the locals and the rest of the detectives, keeping the peace while egos were on the line because Sonny seemed remarkably free of one and wouldn’t get his feelings hurt when some state trooper tried to pretend he knew more than all of Manhattan SVU combined.  

That wouldn’t explain the heartbeat, though.

Pursuit would.

Had Sonny found Shaw?  Were those impossibly long legs chasing him down at that very moment?  Rafael found himself gloating a little, revelling in that assumption because  _ of course  _ his Sonny had caught the man.  He’d been ahead of everyone the entire duration of this case - first in suspecting Shaw and his victim were bonded, then in correctly guessing that the man who’d paid for Shaw’s release could be an estranged relative, previously unknown.  Then taking Rafael’s innocuous comment, the one he probably should have kept to himself, and turning into a lead that would lead the entire team in the right direction.  Rafael was so damn proud his chest puffed up, alone in his office without another soul to witness it.  

His moment was cut short when the quick cadence turned into a heavy hammering that pushed the air from his lungs.  He gasped, surprised, sitting up stock straight in his chair.  

What was happening?

Why was he scared?

Rafael stood from his desk, reaching for his phone on instinct before angrily tossing it away when his rational brain kicked back in.  He couldn’t call him, not right now.  Not without knowing what the hell was going on, not without knowing it wouldn’t put Sonny in harm’s way.  _  More in harm’s way _ , he realized with a sick flop of his stomach.  Olivia, maybe?  He shook his head, dismissing the idea out of hand.  It burned that he’d turned into a total idiot in a matter of seconds, worry overwhelming any shred of the considerable logic he’d once had at his disposal.  His weapon was nowhere to be found now, not with all of his attention focused on the quickening beat in his chest.

A beat that quieted two minutes later.

Shaky, still.  Not quite calm but not the raucous thunder it had been moments before.  Whatever trouble Sonny had found himself in had passed.  Rafael found himself breathing out a deep sigh of relief.  Panicked calls could wait, at least until he received some word that the situation had resolved.

_ Christ _ , he thought to himself.   _ When did I turn into this? _

A nervous wreck, thwarted from working with the simple suggestion that Sonny might have been in some kind of trouble.  Trouble that had abated in less than five minutes with no apparent side effects.  Would it be like this all the time?  Every time Sonny was in the field?  Chasing someone, clearing a scene.  Making an arrest.  All of those events were likely to spark some kind of reaction - a reaction Rafael would likely feel for himself.  Some of Sonny’s anxiety would make its way to him, even if it was only an echo of it in his chest.

Good God, what did the military spouses go through on a daily basis?  

He felt his hair graying at the thought.

Was there a support group for this kind of thing?  Soulmates in high stress positions, in danger relatively often compared to the rest of the population?  Were they just medicated all the time, drugged to function in spite of the fear and worry and paralyzing anxiety?  His acid reflux was bad enough  _ before  _ his bond with Sonny.  He couldn’t imagine the state it would be in now, faced with years of intermittent tension and panic.  He marched back to his desk, eyes on the empty glass he’d been neglecting.  

Rafael poured a drink.

One that was probably just a little too full considering the fact that he was still technically at work, but with a lifetime of residual stress ahead of him he decided to indulge.  Being in love with a cop would kill him, probably sooner rather than later.  What were the chances he could talk Sonny into an ADA position after all?  Not much running or panic involved in his job.  Stress, yes.  Aggravation on a daily basis and that was a best case scenario type of day.  Death threats, even, but Sonny was more than capable of taking care of himself and Rafael wouldn’t have to lose sleep over that.  

Much.

He wouldn’t have to lose  _ much  _ sleep over that.

Worth a shot, he decided as he sipped at his drink and paced.  

Sonny had passed the bar, after all.  He was more than capable.  Smart, empathetic.  He would do the job just as well as he did as a detective - with dedication, with heart.  With seemingly indefatigable energy that both baffled and impressed him.  Sonny would make an excellent ADA.  He would lack Rafael’s bite but would win over juries in a quick second like Rafael himself was never able, patient and unassuming and surprisingly quick on his feet.  It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, watching Sonny take down the likes of Buchanan.  Rita’s face would be priceless the first time she lost to someone nearly everyone would have underestimated.

He grinned to himself.

Worth a shot indeed.

It was another hour and a half before Rafael could work again, even as he felt Sonny’s heartbeat slow and calm in his chest.  He’d gotten a text from Olivia not long after starting his notes on a separate case, letting them know that Michael Durham was in custody and Heather was going home.  Shaw was in the wind but suspected to be saying goodbye to his mother before running.  Officers were on their way to pick him up.  Rafael had inquired on the state of the rest of the team, expressing concern because he knew they were all running on little more than caffeinated fumes, and was rewarded with the assurance that everyone was unhurt and had already left to go back to the city.  

Rafael expressed his congratulations on a job well done and smiled to himself, wondering if he could convince Sonny to meet him at the office and let Rafael take him home.  To sleep, of course, because it was impossible for him to think that Sonny would be up for anything else after the last few days.  There was almost no way Olivia would require them back first thing in the morning - Sonny could sleep as long as he wanted and he would let him, without question.  He thoroughly enjoyed the idea of being able to watch him sleepily peel the clothes from his long body only to fall into Rafael’s bed.  

Just to sleep.

Until morning, maybe.

Closer to noon if they’re lucky.

When his ocean blue eyes would blink awake to the feel of Rafael’s lips on his neck.  Just at that one particular stretch of tender skin where his throat met the underside of his jaw.  The area he now knew made Sonny keen breathlessly and Rafael could only imagine what that would sound like in his ear, in the quiet of his bedroom where the rest of the world couldn’t touch them.  

He was halfway through a mildly suggestive text when there was a knock at his door.

That was fast.

He hadn’t even had a chance to invite Sonny over and suddenly he was here… except.  Except the knock wasn’t Sonny’s.  It wasn’t Liv’s, either.  It couldn’t have been.  In fact there was no way any of them had managed to get back from the Catskills this quickly, even going double the speed limit and clearing all the roads first.  He’d barely had a second to be concerned before the door burst open, slamming against the wall behind it and making him jump up from his desk.  Reaching for his phone should have been his first thought but it didn’t even register in the top five once the door flew open and Christian Shaw walked through it.

Rafael stood frozen, stunned.

What was he doing here?

The baseball bat really should have clued him in.

“Christian Shaw?” he heard himself asking from far away, most of his consciousness removed from the fact that he was in danger.  The bat stayed lowered at Christian’s side, even as his hand tightened its grip.  He shifted foot to foot, anxious energy drifting off him in waves.  “I believe there are people looking for you.”

Goddamn it.  His mouth was going to get him killed.

“Who?”

“Everyone,” Rafael answered honestly and mentally shook himself.

“It doesn’t matter,” Christian replied, face flushed.  “She’s with me.  We’re leaving soon.”

_ No, you’re not. _

_ Heather is on her way home as we speak.  _

Somehow he didn’t think that would help under the circumstances.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked instead, impressed at how steady his voice managed to sound despite the fear rocketing around in his head.  “Am I your unfinished business?”

“You all are,” he replied, staying glued to his place by the door even as it swung closed behind him.  “This wasn’t… this was supposed to be me and her.  Just the two of us.  Not her friend, not all of you.  Just me and her and now it’s ruined.”

“I’m almost certain we had nothing to do with you taking her hostage and assaulting her,” he snarked blandly and snuck a look at his phone.  Maybe he could get a call out, not that it would do him any good by the time Christian managed to get a good swing at his skull.  

“Don’t make it sound like that,” he warned, voice low and menacing.  “I was there to  _ talk _ .  To show her.  And what we did wasn’t  _ assault _ .  You turned it into that when you took her from me.  You got in her head, convinced her that she didn’t want what happened between us.”

“How?” Rafael asked, vaguely recalling an officer in Brooklyn commenting that the longer you kept them talking the better your chances of getting help.  Though realistically, he didn’t know what kind of help he could get without a phone call and so late after hours.  “How could we have convinced Heather of anything against her will?”

“You stole her, treated her like a victim.  Told her that she was safe with you, that I was the bad guy.”

“That’s what we assumed was the case,” Rafael replied.  “And without you talking to us, we had no evidence to the contrary.”

“He told me-”

“Who?”

“My lawyer,” Christian replied, sounding confused now.  

“Silence is typically a better option if you’re already in custody,” Rafael allowed, “He was right about that but if there’s something that needs to be cleared up you’re of course able to talk to us about it.  Are you saying that we misunderstood?”

The bat loosened.  

“About you and Heather, I mean,” Rafael added, keeping his eyes on Christian’s face.  “If there was a misunderstanding between us and the two of you this is a different matter.”

“Yes,” Christian said emphatically, grip on the bat loosening again until it rested between two fingers rather than in his entire hand.  “Yeah, you just misunderstood.  She can tell you, too.”

“Things like this can be corrected,” he suggested, trying to sound professional and unfazed.  Like this was a business meeting rather than attempted assault.  “It happens more often than you’d think.”

“What?” Christian asked, confused.  

“Mistakes.  We’re people.  People can get things wrong, even when you’ve been doing this job as long as I have,” he supplied, sighing.  He shuffled papers on his desk absently, waiting for a chance to unlock the phone lying a few inches in front of his right hand.  “You were in custody for almost a month.  Why didn’t you reach out to the detectives who brought you in?  Try to explain?”

“My lawyer told me not to,” Christian told him, still taken aback.  “He said that they would try to make an example out of me if I told them Heather and I were bonded.  I wouldn’t ever see her again.”

“He was right,” Rafael admitted.  “We thought that was safer for her.”

“She was safe  _ with me _ !” Christian shouted, face mottling to a deep puce.  All their progress toward calm, gone.  “You’re the ones who told her I was dangerous!  She would be with me if it weren’t for you!  She belongs to  _ me _ .”

And there they were, back to the beginning.

It was all their fault.

Not his, of course.

They made him take her prisoner, assault her friend.  Rape her.  Take her hostage a month later to try and make a run for it.

_ Fuck it _ , Rafael thought with a long sigh as he abandoned his hope of getting a phone call out.  

It wouldn’t matter anyway.

He thought of Sonny, of the even cadence in his chest.  Of how much better Sonny would have been at this.  At doing what he was supposed to - keeping Christian talking, empathizing.  Rafael could make it no more than a handful of conversational turns before giving up and going for blood.  No matter the consequences, it seemed, as his eyes unconsciously flitted to the baseball bat.

_ Forgive me, Sonny _ .

“Heather belongs to herself.  We’re not in the business of interrupting teenage romances,” Rafael said sharply, leaning his hands onto the desk.  “We’re in the business of investigating and trying  _ crimes _ .  That’s what you did.  You committed a crime, of which Heather was a victim.   _ Your  _ victim, no matter how much you insist that she’s safer with you.”

Christian simply stared back, face dark and eyes narrowed.

“Tell me.  Did Heather go with you willingly?” Rafael asked pointedly.  “Did she just decide after months of being afraid of you that she would jump in the car and go on a road trip?  No, she didn’t.  You had to coordinate with your grandfather to take her against her will.  Away from her family, the people who  _ really  _ wanted to keep her safe.  From you.”

His eyes stayed dilated in rage, chest heaving.

“Is Heather waiting for you to get back?” he continued.  “Is she just sitting around the house, unrestrained?  Or is she locked up somewhere, Christian?  Are you keeping her safe with locks and chains?”

He could see the truth in the statement as soon as it landed, Christian’s eyes narrowing in unrestrained hate and his jaw grinding from side to side.  

“I think you should start being very honest with yourself about how dangerous you really are,” Rafael told him seriously.  “Or are you just here with a baseball bat to have a calm discussion about your case?

They both knew he wasn’t.

The talking was over, Rafael realized.

There wouldn’t be another word between them.

Christian circled the desk slowly and Rafael had the presence of mind to grasp at his phone a few threadbare seconds before the bat swung up and crashed into the desktop.  Wood cracked and Rafael moved around the side, knowing he’d never be able to move faster than a kid in his twenties.  He wouldn’t be able to circle this desk all night.  Of all the items in his desk he couldn’t think of one that could be used as a weapon, supposing he knew how to use a weapon at all.  Rafael’s offense was situated firmly in the verbal and those opportunities were all used up.

His thumbs moved like lightning over the keyboard but the chance was gone in an instant, phone shattering along with half the bones in his wrist as the bat connected with his hand.  The sound of breaking glass did nothing to cover the sound of his shocked yell, rough with pain.  He reflexively took his injured arm into his grasp, providing at least a minimal barrier when the glint of the aluminum bat flashed bright a foot above his head.

Rafael stumbled back and raised his arms.

His forearm splintered under the first strike.  The crack of bone was deafening and he sucked in a deep breath that he held for fear of screaming.  Something he could have done, had it mattered.  Had another soul even been in the building at this hour.  He stepped back and stumbled into a chair, slowing him enough to be left vulnerable when Christian drew the bat back and swung again.  This time catching the meat of his shoulder as he twisted away from it.  Trying to remember to keep his torso protected, to keep his limbs in.

Small kids with smart mouths didn’t get treated well in the Bronx.

He’d learned those skills a long time ago, hoping he’d never need them again after leaving the Bronx behind and heading for Harvard.

He’d been wrong.

The strategy worked about as well as it could have, shielding his vital organs from the onslaught while the bulk of his body took the worst of it.  He heard cracks and pops and the dull thud of muscle as it accepted the leaden weight of the bat.  Christian took another swing at his side and Rafael twisted away from it, falling over the desk top hard enough to knock the remaining air from his lungs.  His stomach twisted uncomfortably, the taste of bile stinging the back of his throat.  The burn was momentary, fading soon into the cacophony of every other pain currently inhabiting his body.  

The bat fell next to his head, wood splintering.  

Rafael turned away and his shirt caught on an exposed shard of the desk, yanking him back with a pained grunt.  He lost his footing, hip slamming into the edge as he sank to the floor.  Suddenly he was face to face with Christian’s knees, in the position he knew he was never supposed to occupy if he could help it.  

On the floor, vulnerable.

The certainty grounded him, oddly.  

The knowledge that he wouldn’t get up again a small comfort.

It would be over soon, at least.

He sought out the rhythm of Sonny’s heart next to his own, elevated now with the awareness that something was wrong.  Most likely feeling a shadow of what Rafael did and he found himself racked with guilt.  Rafael thought of his worry, of the sick fear Sonny must be feeling at the brief flashes of Rafael’s terror.  At the fact that he could do nothing to stop it, probably still far away from the city and incapable of reaching Rafael in any useful amount of time.

_ It’s okay _ , he thought to himself and wished Sonny could hear it.  

_ I’m okay. _

The bat raised again and Rafael didn’t bother tracking it, looking instead at Christian’s faced flushed in fury as he swung.  Rafael managed to bring up his arms, broken as they likely were, but the damage was done.  The bat connected with the center of his chest and he felt a distinct  _ pop _ that resounded in the silence between Christian’s heaving breaths.  The weight on his ribcage was brutal, the pain radiating in unimaginable waves that made his vision swim and his breath catch.  The sound of his bones breaking seemed to echo and after that his every breath, every heartbeat, burned like fire.  A rolling, molten fire that engulfed him and stole his every thought.

He felt his heart stutter, pause.

A long halt.

Longer than it should have been and his conscious mind rioted, railing against what it knew was coming.  

His chest lurched.

Dizziness set in but suddenly his heart was there, still working.

A few stilted beats that assured him he was still alive.

Rafael wasn’t sure if he cared to be.

Not when the bat was up again and connecting with his arm and the bottom of his ribs, resulting in more pain.  More unearthly cracks as his bone succumbed to the pressure.  Were he capable of more conscious thought, he would have felt sorry for the fact that Sonny was feeling this with him.  He would much preferred to have died alone and spared Sonny the agony of living through it with him.  

Rafael thought briefly of his mother, wondering if it would be Sonny who showed up at her door or some other faceless officer, before a sound other than that of his body breaking drew both their attention up.  His door, he realized in passing as it crashed open again and a familiar blonde head came through it, shouting.

Rollins.  

Gun drawn.  

Shouting orders that he couldn’t quite make out to a kid who was too furious to realize how serious she was.  How close he was to dying if he didn’t drop his weapon and get on the ground.  His dark eyes darted over to Rafael, just to check on his work, before he gripped the bat tight again and drew it back.  One good hit at this point was all it would take and he couldn’t find the strength to brace himself against it.  He hadn’t quite had time to make peace before more footsteps thundered into the office, only just audible over the sound of Rollins’ continued shouting.

_ Sonny. _

Rollins pulled the trigger.  

Several times.

Christian’s body jerked, the bat fell.

He landed on his back, crumpled.

The shots had barely registered for Rafael.

They were lost to the roaring of blood in his ears at the sight of Sonny stepping into the room behind Rollins.  Eyes frantic, landing on him almost instantly.  The sight of him was a balm, not healing his wounds but at least soothing them because his Sonny was there.  He’d never been happier to see anyone in his life.  Sonny fell to his knees in front of him, trying to take stock of damage that Rafael honestly couldn’t begin to detail.  He hurt everywhere now - there was no sense of origin.  Nowhere for him to point the man, so desperately looking for a starting place at which to help.

“You’re here,” he said instead, wistful.

“Yeah, always,” Sonny replied breathlessly and God only knew what he looked like but he didn’t miss the shine in Sonny’s eyes as his eyes ran the length of his body.  “I’ll always be here Rafi, okay?  And help is coming, don’t worry.  We called a bus already and they’re on their way.  Just a few minutes now.”

Rafael hummed, unable to keep his gaze from the flush high on Sonny’s cheeks.

Beautiful.

Sonny touched his side, pulling his hand away instantly when Rafael jerked and cried out against it.  His shoulder was next, met with a similar reaction.  He’d been beaten all to hell, he thought as even his wrist throbbed with the slightest pressure.  He heard an apology but he didn’t respond, brain incapable of focusing at the moment.  Vaguely he could hear Rollins’ voice running in the background, hurried and rambling.  Reporting Shaw’s death, reporting his assault to whoever was on the other end of the call.

Probably Olivia, he mused.  

Olivia would be furious.

_ Sad, _ he corrected.  

_ Olivia would be sad. _

“Where?” Sonny asked and it took some concentration to bring his attention back to the man next to him.  “Where- fuck, where can I touch you?”

“Anywhere you want,” he told him honestly, just because it didn’t seem to matter and he wanted to feel Sonny anyway.  All his touches were gentle, all seemingly tuned in to the pain that washed over him with even the softest touches, but Rafael wouldn’t tell him to stop.  Not on his life, because this was all he wanted a few minutes ago and that hadn’t changed just because he was hurting.

How many touches could he have left?

His heart had already stopped once and was stuttering on its last legs now, his lungs growing heavy and his veins sluggish.

Rafael tried to move into his embrace but didn’t get very far, hissing a breath through his teeth without managing to move more than an inch.

“Hey, stop, stop, stop.  Don’t move, you're okay,” Sonny insisted, voice breaking as he chose to move closer in the hopes Rafael would stay still.  “You're alright, I'm here.  I've got you.”

Rafael smiled, abruptly transported to a month ago.

Late, like this.

In his office, around the other side of his desk, Sonny’s hand on his chest and his full lips against his ear.  

“You’ve said that to me before,” Rafael pointed out with a small smile.  Sonny looked up, surprised.  “Our moment.  Those were the first words I heard after I came to.  Just you, telling me you were there.  That you had me.”

Sonny tilted his head, trying to remember.

It was probably fuzzy for him.

Just babbling.

Rafael replayed it in his head like a rosary, as sacred to him as any of the ancient recitations he’d learned as a child.

“I love those words,” he told him and took a deep breath that burned like fire across his chest.  “Tell me again.”

Sonny’s head fell, air expelling from his lungs in a broken sob.

“Please,” he said again and Sonny nodded, looking up again to betray the grief written so clearly across his face. 

“You’re alright,” Sonny said softly, reaching for Rafael’s hand to hold in his own.

Rafael let him, ignoring the pain shooting up to his elbow as Sonny brought it to his face.

“I’m here,” Sonny told him, pressing a light kiss to his fingers.  

Rafael did his best to ignore the tears he felt on Sonny’s cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” Sonny breathed.

“You’ve had me for a long time,” Rafael replied in little more than a whisper and rejoiced in the skip in Sonny’s heart.  Another small comfort in a sea of pain.  He let Sonny anchor him, the strong beat on the right side of his chest keeping him tethered to the world while most of him longed to escape it.

He looked up at Sonny.

At his tired, heartbroken, panicked face.

Even exhausted, even scared, he was so beautiful.

Gold and silver.

Alabaster and blush and sky blue.

Sonny was a riot of color and there was nothing in that moment Rafael would rather be doing than staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself saying, surprised at how thin his voice sounded.   

“What?” Sonny asked, eyes darting up to meet his.  “What, Raf?  Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t choose you sooner,” he replied and he watched Sonny’s face fall in what looked like slow motion.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll do better next time.”

“Hey!  No, no, no,” Sonny cried, dropping his hand now to cup his face.  “Hey, don’t talk like that, okay?  We still got all the time we need here.  Raf?  Raf!”

He used the last of his energy to feel the urgent thumping in his chest, next to his own failing heart.  

Sonny’s life, going strong.  

Sonny, safe.

He could live with that.

His eyes closed just as the door opened.

 

**…**

 

Sonny jolted, stomach dropping.  

He heard himself yelling, saw his own hand reach up to check the pulse in Rafael’s throat.  Numb, terrified of what he would find.  Or not find, but that was still unfathomable to him.  It was with nearly crippling relief that he felt a beat under his fingers.  Despite the fact that he could no longer feel it in his own body, Rafael’s heartbeat was there.  Slow and irregular, but it was there.  He was alive.  Sonny held that knowledge close to his heart, even as the EMTs rushed into the room and he was pushed aside.  Held it closer as he watched them work, tearing Rafael’s shirt open and attaching wires meant to monitor his heart.  They glanced up at the first buzz of distortion on the screen.

“Is he bonded?”

“Yes,” Sonny answered from the floor, tears burning the back of his throat.  He ignored Rollins’ surprised glance from across the room.

“Recent?”

He nodded.  “A few weeks.”

“No wonder he’s still breathing.  All the hormones,” one commented as they loaded him up onto the gurney, as though that explained a damn thing to Sonny.  As though he cared about anything beyond the fact that he was breathing.  

He pushed himself off the floor, trying not to listen as they narrated findings.  Words like  _ rupture  _ and  _ fracture  _ and  _ internal bleeding.   _ Words that made his stomach clench up and his throat constrict painfully.  Rollins stood on the other side of the room, mouth closed tight and eyes darting every so often to the body a few feet away.  Christian Shaw, gone before he’d even hit the floor.  Sonny found himself wondering if Heather knew - had she felt it the moment that first shot had hit his chest?  Had she doubled over, gasping while she felt her soulmate die?

Did it hurt?

Was she glad?

Sonny shook those thoughts from his head, trying to get himself away from the concept of death while Rafael was so close - close enough to reach out and touch, close enough for Sonny to grasp his hand had he not needed to be out of the way.  Close enough to see the small constellations of cuts across Rafael’s face - wooden shards, he’d guess, from the look of the desk next to him.  He must have been very close when Shaw laid into it.  Within inches, well within striking distance had Shaw decided to go for the kill instead.

He needed to be sick.

“Alright, we’re moving him,” one of the EMTs announced and Sonny jumped up, eyes on the heart monitor even as he struggled to locate it within his own body.  “Headed to Mt. Sinai, the OR there is unoccupied if we get him there fast enough.”

“I’m going with you,” Sonny announced as they rolled him toward the door.  His eyes found Rafael’s face unconsciously, jaw tightening at the sight of Rafael’s closed eyes.  

“No room,” the EMT in charge said, navigating through the narrow doorway of his office while Sonny chased behind him.  

“Hey!” Sonny yelled in return.  “Listen, he’s-”

“I know,” the man interrupted without missing a step.  “But I’m telling you that we need to work and you might not want to be there while we do it.”

The reason was unspoken.

_ You don’t want to be there if he dies. _

“Hey, Carisi, it’s okay,” he heard from behind him as they marched down the hall toward the door.  Rollins, jogging to catch up.  “It’s okay, you can just follow them.  You can meet them there, right?”

“Yeah,” he allowed tersely as they wheeled out of sight.  

“Go, it’ll be okay.  I’ll tell Liv where you’re headed,” she assured him, daring to rub a hand down his arm in an attempt at comfort.  “Barba, he’s… he’s tough, Carisi.  He can handle this.”

He nodded.

_ I hope so, because I can’t. _

“Are you riding with me?” he asked instead and Rollins shook her head.

“I’ve got to hang out here for the uniforms and IAB,” she said and Sonny nodded sympathetically.  

“It was a good shoot,” he said.  “Thank you.  For saving him.”

A hint of a smile touched her mouth.

“Go,” she told him gently.  “Put the sirens on, speed like hell.  I’ll pray for him, alright?”

Sonny nodded his thanks but couldn’t find any words beyond that so he turned and took off, thinking of the car he’d left parked haphazardly outside.  People had started to gather on the street, aware of the ambulance trying to leave as well as the one pulling in - the one there to pronounce Christian Shaw and move him to the morgue.  A fleet of black and whites were due any minute if the wail of sirens in the distance were to be believed.  He did his best to ignore those as he climbed behind the driver’s seat and turned the key, speeding off behind the ambulance before another car managed to sneak in ahead of him.  His sirens flashed and his eyes stayed glued on the doors in front of him.

They were working.

He could see movement, lots of it.

He chose to see that as a good sign.  There wouldn’t be any movement at all if Rafael had-

_ No. _

Not going down that road.

Sonny drove as fast as he dared behind them, repressing the urge to honk at drivers too slow to get out of the way.  He knew Mt. Sinai wasn’t that far from the district attorney’s office but he felt like his life had slowed to a crawl, his every breath tied inextricably to the man in the back of the ambulance ahead of him.  When finally they pulled into the ER bay he found an emergency slot and parked, running over to meet the EMTs as they opened the doors and brought Rafael down.

Rafael, still breathing.

Still unconscious.  

Sonny ran in behind them, the automatic doors parting to reveal a storm of chaos behind them.  Shouting, crying.  People cradling injuries and coughing into napkins.  For the first time since he was four, Sonny didn’t spare a single thought to the things he might contract from sharing hospital air.  He could only pray and follow closely behind, his long legs threatening to overtake the gurney in his rush to get where they were going.  

Until a set of double doors appeared head and they pushed through them, a small woman in baby blue scrubs coming out to stop him from following.  Her hijab was cornflower blue paisley, a color so bright and happy it took him aback.  

“Sir, you can’t go back there,” she said in accented English, voice calm but firm as she led him away from the door and toward a potted plant at the end of the hallway.  “They need to work.  Are you his partner?”

“Yes,” Sonny gasped, “We’re bonded.”

“Do you have his medical history?” she asked and his stomach knotted further.

No, he didn’t.

He didn’t know a goddamn thing about Rafael’s medical history other than heartburn and migraines, a side effect of his job.  He didn’t even know the name of his doctor to have the records faxed over, for God’s sake.

“No, I’m sorry,” he stammered, “This is new and we haven’t, we didn’t get-”

“It’s fine,” she assured him with a small hand on his arm.  “Does he have any allergies we should know about?”

“Not that I know of?” he said and felt miserable.  “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yeah, uh, a baseball bat,” he said, voice catching.  “He’s a Manhattan ADA, a perp came in and-”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“He’s doing so well,” the woman said softly, touching his arm again.  Sonny wanted to collapse.  “He’s very strong.  Fighting suits him.”

Sonny gave a broken, teary laugh.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “That’s kind of his thing.”

“Then let him do it,” she urged him.  “I’m going to go back and check on him, alright?  I want you to stay right here and I’ll tell you what they say.”

He nodded.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be right here.”

Sonny watched as she turned and walked back through the double doors, his view blocked by another set that prevented him from seeing inside.  From getting a glimpse of Rafael while they worked.  He did his best to take in a deep breath, looking again for the beat in his chest that he suddenly feared wouldn’t be coming back.  Rafael wasn’t there anymore.  He didn’t know why, didn’t understand, but it made the agony of waiting that much worse.  

She didn’t come back for a while.

Not for several minutes past when Sonny would have been comfortable, but when she did her smile wasn’t so bright.  His stomach twisted and his heart climbed into his throat but she was quick to tell him that Rafael was strong enough for surgery.  Surgery to repair a ruptured spleen, to drain the internal bleeding he’d suffered from broken ribs cutting through tissue.  Both arms were broken in several places, the right worse than his left as he’d used it to block some of the blows.  A smart decision, on his behalf, because it saved his life.  Had the bat made full contact with his chest he would be gone already - instead there was only a crack in the sternum, the strongest part of his ribcage mostly intact.  

One shoulder was dislocated, a harder fix with the broken arm attached to it.

Minor skin tears on the face.

Shattered wrist.

The biggest concern was the internal bleeding, she’d told him.  Face grave, eyes direct and unblinking.  He’d lost a lot of blood and would need several transfusions just to survive surgery.  The good news was that his blood type was a universal recipient and that finding blood would be easy.  That being said, if any of his friends and family cared to donate they wouldn’t be turned away.

He nodded adamantly.

He could do that.

He’d give until he passed out.  

Which he did, almost.

He’d given as much as they’d let him, plying him with cookies that were too sweet and juice that tasted sour after the cookies.  Rafael’s surgeon had stepped in briefly, a tall black woman with an air of authority he responded to instantly.  She gave him the rundown of the surgery, told him it would take several hours, and that the nurse would update Rafael’s progress as necessary.  Sonny nodded, thanked her profusely, and made sure to ask for her name so he knew who to pray for alongside Rafael.  

Olivia arrived soon after, looking harried.  

Sonny was in the OR waiting room, the small space thankfully deserted aside from him.  He sat in a deep armchair, foot tapping and eyes trained on the door.  An unopened package of peanut butter crackers sat on the table next to him.  The same nurse had come back and told him five minutes before that they’d moved Rafael into surgery.  The only thing to do now was wait, she’d told him with a small smile and a promise to update.  

“Carisi,” Olivia breathed, charging into the room and surprising him.  “What the hell happened?”

“Shaw,” he answered, foot tapping faster.  “Found him in his office with a bat.”

The words didn’t get any easier to say.

“Jesus,” she whispered, eyes wide.  

“They took him into surgery a few minutes ago,” he told her.  “They said he could use the blood donations if anyone wanted to donate.”

“I’ll get it done,” she replied, stepping aside to place a call that he couldn’t hear.  

Sonny appreciated the move but strangely didn’t feel much hope.  Olivia was friends with cops and most cops didn’t care much for Rafael, the man who would try a cop the same way he would anyone else.  That didn’t get you much camaraderie from the boys in blue.  The death threats alone proved that and Sonny didn’t foresee a sudden change in goodwill just because his life was on the line.  

“How did you know?” 

His eyes came away from the door to meet hers.

“Rollins said you knew,” Olivia clarified, sitting in the armchair next to him.  “She said you went to his office instead of the precinct, knew something was wrong before you’d even gotten out of the car.”

Sonny nodded and looked back toward the OR doors.

There was no chance they’d be updating him so soon, not unless something was wrong, but it didn’t stop him from staring.

“I could feel it,” Sonny confirmed.  “I could feel his heart.  When it started.”

Olivia tilted her head.  “Because…”

“Because we’re bonded,” he filled in, knowing already that she’d come to the same conclusion and was only asking to hear him say it.  Ever the professional, she spared him the sputtering questions about how she managed to be in the dark about her best friend and ADA being bonded to her detective.  

“I see,” she commented mildly and he could see the wheels turning, her tone shifting.  He was another victim’s family member, getting handled.  “Carisi, when you arrived, did you see Christian?”

He shook his head.

“Rollins was ahead of me.  I, uh… I lost it for a few seconds, when- when it got bad,” he said and neglected to share the feeling of Rafael’s heart stopping in his chest.  “She got there first.  We could hear the sound of something from the inside and Amanda said she saw something through the glass.  Drew her weapon, opened the door.  I was a few feet behind her but I could hear her ordering Shaw to drop the bat, to get on the ground.”

His lieutenant nodded helpfully, not leading or prodding him along.

“When I got there Raf was on the ground, in front of his desk.  He was-” his voice broke and he took another deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay while he was talking to his boss.  “- he was pretty bad off, bleeding and kind of dazed.  Out of it.  Shaw knew he was done but figured he’d try his luck anyway.  He brought the bat back up like he was gonna swing again but Rollins fired and he went down.  She checked him for vitals I’m pretty sure but I wasn’t paying attention.  I was with Raf.”

“That’s good.  I don’t blame you,” Olivia said before adding, “Shaw was pronounced dead on scene.”

“Good,” he replied and couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.  He didn’t even sound like himself.  “It was a good shoot, Lieu.  Rollins saved his life.  If she hadn’t fired, Rafael would’ve been gone.  Just like that.”

“I believe you.  Both of you,” she assured him.  “How’s he doing in there?”

Sonny huffed a sarcastic laugh and shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“I thought-”

“I know.  We are,” he interrupted, refusing to entertain for even a second that they were no longer bonded just because Sonny couldn’t feel him.  “In the middle of it his heart stopped.  Probably when Shaw cracked his chest.  It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but I never felt him again.  I don’t know how he is.”

“He’s a fighter.  You know that,” Olivia told him, softening.  Undoubtedly aware of the fact now that Sonny was barely keeping it together.  “How many cases have you watched him to take to trial against all odds?  Against even his own better judgment?”

He chuckled weakly.

“I think that’s about half of his job,” Sonny replied.  “Doing things against his better judgment.”

“Exactly.  He’s way too stubborn to let this be what gets him.  Besides,” she added with a soft smile, “I have a feeling he’s got a whole lot to live for right now.”

Sonny nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

A date, he thought to himself as the numbness set in.

He was going to take Rafi on a date.  

Olivia moved on when she felt he was done sharing for the moment, instead asking a passing nurse for directions to where she could donate blood for a surgical patient.  They whisked her away but she was back in half an hour, her own package of crackers unopened in her hand.  She offered to get him a sedative but he declined, entirely unwilling to miss an update because he was sleeping on the job.  Of course she’d promised to wake him but he didn’t believe her for a minute, especially if the update was small and she didn’t think it was important enough.

His nurse came out an hour later.

Rafael was doing well but needed an additional transfusion.

She disappeared again.  

Sonny sat in a haze of people moving in and out.  Fin, coming to check in before being directed to the lab to give blood.  Rollins not quite an hour later, finished giving her statement to IAB and cleared to go to the hospital.  She gave as well before crashing into a chair on his other side.  

“I’m proud of him,” Rollins said blearily, hand grasping his forearm.  “He’s a tough guy, Sonny.  You did good.”

He wanted to cry again.

Instead he nodded and watched as she drifted off in her chair, missing the second update.  The nurse telling them that his heartbeat dropped momentarily but he was fine now.  Sonny wished to God he could feel that for himself but instead he nodded and accepted Olivia’s encouraging smile.  A few officers came to donate shortly after, nodding in Olivia’s direction in a show of solidarity before walking right back out again.  Sonny made a note of all their names, intent on thanking them once all this was over.  

Once Rafael was home, safe.

Healing.

He must have dozed off at some point, head resting against the back of the chair.  Fin had gone, he realized upon looking around.  Benson was asleep in her chair across the room, Rollins asleep next to him.  A peek at his watch told him it was just after three in the morning.  The two women with him both had babies at home and he considered waking them up to tell them to go, that he would update them as soon as he knew anything, but knew already they’d tell him to shut up and stay where they were anyway.  Instead he leaned forward and put his head in his hands, staring at the floor and trying for the hundredth time that night to feel any sign of Rafael.

He didn’t.

There wasn’t time to agonize over it before the OR doors swung open, his brain struggling to place the sound and failing.  It was the footsteps in front of him that drew his eyes up, slowly while he struggled to come awake.  Stark white orthopedic shoes, deep blue scrubs.  A tall, thin frame and dark skin, wide coffee dark eyes looking at him with a mixture of compassion and exhaustion.  Sonny was so wrapped up in the recognition of Rafael’s surgeon that he almost didn’t hear her speak.

“Detective Carisi?” she asked, voice low.  “Can we talk?”


	11. What They Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... so, this is it. The end. 
> 
> A special thanks to booyahkendell, whose brainstorming on this chapter was essential to the finished product. Thank you for listening to me ramble and complain and talk things out with you. Without your sappy self this wouldn't have turned out nearly as well. <3
> 
> Thanks to my girls, the OT3. Months ago, after writing my first Barisi fic, tobeconspicuous was kind enough to message me and encourage a soulmate AU. This is undoubtedly, inarguably, all for her. I'm very lucky to have earned her affection and tolerance of my nonsense. <3
> 
> Thanks to Robin Hood, who was made for me in a secret government laboratory. For giving me ideas, for giving me dialogue, for sitting in the Google Docs chat and telling me to keep going. The best of this fandom can be found in her work and I'm all the better for knowing her and reading what she's capable of creating. <3
> 
> Thanks, finally, to you all. Thanks for reading, thanks for the kudos and comments and flailing both here and on Tumblr. Writing wouldn't be nearly the joy that it is for me without all of you and I'm so happy to have found a shipping home among you.
> 
> Without further adieu... 
> 
> xoxo, ahf.

_**Epilogue :  What They Have** _

  
  


_ Rafael should be here. _

Sonny thought it for the hundredth time that day, this time on the stand while a younger and less talented ADA led him through the events that took place six months before, in the Catskills mountains.  He bordered on leading a few times but the defense was quick to point it out and Sonny did his best to answer carefully, knowing already how Rafael would be guiding him through these questions - which was to say, competently.  Confidently.  Mostly with some passing notion that Sonny was both a lawyer himself and a trained professional with more than a few trials under his belt.  That he didn’t need the questions loaded with hints as to his preferred answer.

His testimony dragged on forever, although really it was barely an hour.  Just enough time for him to relive the minutes and hours preceding the worst night of his life. 

Christian Shaw was dead.  

Pronounced on scene, while Sonny was on his way to the hospital with Rafael.  Rollins had been cleared soon after, all the evidence overwhelmingly in her favor.  Stunned silence was the most common reaction to Rafael's attack.  No one had suspected Shaw would go anywhere near the ADA trying his case, assuming he would have been more focused on Heather.  It was only in the process of interviewing his grandfather that they learned Shaw had something of a fixation on the prosecutor.  He was convinced that it was Rafael who was keeping him from her, recommending remand and then a restraining order.  Showing up to remind him of that when he made bail. Killing him would have been punishment, retribution for standing between them.  A warning to the rest of them.  It had never occurred to Shaw that it would result in his death. Or the ungodly silence in Sonny’s own chest.  

He kept expecting to get used to it. 

He'd lived almost thirty-seven years with nothing but his own heartbeat and still it felt unnatural - like something had been taken from him.  Because it had been.  He was supposed to feel Rafael for the rest of their lives, it was part of the deal.  The deal for finding your soulmate, the deal for promising yourself to another person forever.  Now he just felt cheated.  Alone, even when he knew better.  The loneliness was particularly staggering in times like these, when it should have been Rafael smirking at him from the table a few feet away - court days were harder than most.

The jury deliberated for two hours before returning Michael Durham’s guilty verdict - he’d get a few years for the kidnapping charge, out in three or four if his behavior was good enough.  It probably would be; Heather had only ever said that he was nice to her in the house when they were alone together, even after she found the gun in the closet and escaped.  It was only him trying to stop her and the heat of the moment that led her to pump buckshot into his leg.  She hadn’t felt a hint of remorse, as far as he could tell.  Between that and the short sentence he wasn’t sure justice had been served strongly enough, at least in his eyes.  Sonny did know that Heather’s approving nod as the verdict was read was good enough for him.  

He’d gotten a particularly tight hug from her after court was adjourned, both of them highly aware of the silence mirrored on both their right sides.  She’d offered him a grateful smile, a highly suspect promise that she’d behave and study hard, and then promptly asked where Rollins was so they could make movie night plans that he, as a guy, wasn't invited to.  He feigned hurt feelings to make her laugh but was happy to see her making plans rather than getting swept up in the past as the last of her ordeal was finally put to rest.  Rollins told him a few days ago that she’d gotten early acceptance to college and was making vague threats about law school.

Fordham, she’d noted with a grin even though Sonny knew the day would come when she’d put this all behind her and wouldn’t give another thought to law school.

“She’s gonna go be a lobbyist or something like that,” Rollins had told him without even looking up from her phone, sounding pretty convinced.  “Wants to change the legislation on soulmate violence for harsher punishments, mandatory minimums.”

“I’m sure they’ll tell her in law school that it’s not as much of a deterrent as she thinks it is,” Sonny pointed out, fighting a smile because he’d once thought the exact same thing.  Still thought it, from time to time.  

“She’s angry still so that’s first on the list.  The second thing on the list is setting up legal protections for victims,” she’d replied and that had him smiling wider.

Now Heather thanked every member of the squad individually, handing out hugs and promises to find them on Instagram.  Which he wasn’t sure any of them had, but it was the thought that counted right?  He watched with amusement as the courtroom cleared and Michael Durham was led away.  While the rest of the team was talking about drinks down the street, he snuck out the door as quietly as possible to avoid committing to any plans. 

Sonny left the courthouse with his hands in his pockets, bracing against the cutting January winds.  Even his thickest wool coat wasn't enough to protect him, the below freezing temperatures slicing clean through to bone.  The sun was already sitting low behind gray clouds - it would be dark in an hour.  More snow was predicted overnight, just in time for the three-day weekend.  His only comfort was that with court out earlier than expected, he had nowhere to go but home.  

“Carisi,” he heard behind him, Benson’s voice familiar and authoritative enough to stop him in his tracks.  “Hold on a minute.”

“Yeah, sure,” he answered while she descended the steps to keep up with him.  “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to touch base with you,” she replied.  

“Alright,” he allowed tentatively.  “What’s that code for?  I got picked for overtime again despite doing it every weekend for a month?”

She scoffed, shaking her head.

“I know today was-”

“Long?” he interjected.  “Cold?  Frustrating?”

She smiled patiently.

“I know today was a big deal,” she continued, “And I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you need anything.” 

“You worried about me, Lieu?” he asked playfully, brow arched, finally confident enough in their relationship to give her a hard time.  The last six months had been a lot of change for everyone and he’d found a surprising help in the form of his boss and Rafael’s best friend.  Sonny shouldn’t have been surprised after years of seeing how victims and their families found so much strength in her.  

“Nah,” she replied casually as they walked together.  “How’s the home life?”

He laughed.

“About as good as you’d expect.  You know, under the circumstances.”

“The circumstances being?”

“Raf stuck in the house, recovering.  Unable to work.  Unable to try the case that put him there in the first place,” he replied in a long exhale.  “His last checkup was this afternoon but I haven’t heard from him so it’s possible the doctor wants him to hold off on coming back a little longer.  Maybe after more therapy since his shoulder still isn't great.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she replied, “I didn’t see an explosion in the distance.”

Sonny snorted.  

“Yeah, that’s what would happen alright,” he agreed.  “And if Rafael didn’t cut the guy down to size then I would, because Raf has  _ got  _ to start having something to do with his time.  He’s been doing nothing but watching Golden Girls reruns and buying socks online.  I keep telling him that brilliant legal mind is going to mush and he just tells me to get out from in front of the TV.”

“I don’t think Barba’s brain is capable of becoming mush.”

He glanced at her pointedly. 

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“A few weeks now,” she admitted with a chuckle and stopped on the sidewalk, pulling her coat a little tighter.  “I tried last week but his exact words were ‘I won’t let you see me like this’.”

Sonny scoffed.  

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“You losing all those stars in your eyes, Carisi?” she teased knowingly even as Sonny smiled.  “I’m surprised it took you so long.  You were pretty insufferable for a while there.”

“Nah,” he replied with a smirk.  “They’re still there.”

“Good,” she told him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm affectionately.  “Do you feel him at all?  Even a little?”

He shook his head, examined his shoes.

“Not yet,” he said even though Rafael’s doctor at this point had told him to make peace with the fact that it wasn’t coming back.  The pause in his heartbeat after Shaw cracked his chest was long enough to have severed the bond - for Sonny, at least.  Sonny’s heart was still going strong in Rafael, like nothing ever happened.  It was only Sonny stranded without his other half.  

“Just give it some time,” she said hopefully.  “Barba’s still healing.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

He wasn’t, though.

At least not in any way that had to do with his heart - his cardiologist had cleared him last week.  He’d smiled and clapped Rafael hard on the back, declaring him just like new.  Not a thing to worry about with the exception of his occasional bouts of high blood pressure, treated with medication as needed.  Rafael’s heart was as healthy as it was going to get and Sonny was going to have to start accepting that at some point, even if it was easier to pretend that someday he would wake up and feel Rafael there again, like he’d never left.

“Thanks Lieu,” he said instead of putting all that on her.  “I, uh.  I better get back.  See you Monday?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said with a smile.  “I promised Noah cocoa tonight after dinner so I guess I’d better get home sooner rather than later, just so the sugar rush doesn’t ruin bedtime.”

“I think we both know that’s gonna happen anyway.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.  Have a good weekend, Carisi.”

“You too.  Tell Noah I said hi,” he replied, waving as she flagged down a cab and climbed in.  

He watched her drive off, red taillights fading into traffic as his thoughts wandered.  To Heather, to the trial.  To the press that had only just started to leave her alone now that the trial was over and people had lost interest.  To Christian Shaw, dead now six months.  To his mother, dead for three.  To Michael Durham, headed to prison.  To the fact that he wasn’t sure what version of Rafael he’d be coming home to, depending almost entirely upon what the doctor had to say that afternoon.  For a minute he let himself get carried away, staring at the cars passing in front of the courthouse before a sudden vibration from his pocket pulled him back to earth.

A text.

Sonny keyed open his phone, smiling instantly at the name on the screen.  It was good to know that even seeing Rafael’s name was enough to erase all his darker thoughts so quickly it was like they were never there.  Olivia was probably right to poke fun at him about stars in his eyes.  

He pulled their text thread up and grinned at the message, chuckling a little so that his breath turned to steam in short bursts before floating away.  

 

_ Are you coming home soon? _

 

Sonny smirked and sent a quick reply.

 

**_Why?  You miss me already?_ **

 

_ Don’t be stupid.  And yes.   _

 

**_Insulting my intelligence isn't going to get me home any faster._ **

 

_ I think we both know that's not true.  _

 

Sonny scoffed and shook his head.  

 

**_On my way._ **

 

Sonny was hopeless, but only for Rafael.

That was okay.

That was perfect.

He stepped out to the curb and caught a cab, giving the driver Rafael’s address before buckling in and watching the first snowflakes of the night start to fall.

 

**…**

 

Sonny walked in the door at half-past six, hanging his key up and unwrapping the scarf from his neck.  The key hook next to the door had been an insistence of his upon moving in several months before, swearing it was a necessity because he always lost his keys even as Rafael put up one hell of a fight for seemingly no reason whatsoever.  Just to fight, he guessed.  Sonny thought it was a homey touch.  Rafael thought it was an unnecessary screw in the wall because Sonny was incapable of keeping track of his belongings like an adult.  Probably they were both right but Sonny won anyway.  The decorative key hooks had been hanging next to the door, a happy little flight of sparrows, since Sonny moved in.

Moving day had come four months before, once Rafael was discharged from the inpatient rehab center.  He’d spent a month there after being released from the hospital before being allowed to go home.  With the understanding, of course, that he wouldn't be alone.  Sonny hadn't spent a night in his apartment since, making his lease that much easier to break when it came time to renew it.  Living with Rafael hadn't come about the way he'd hoped - with a key in a Christmas present, not that he'd thought about it  _ at all _ \- but he loved it all the same.  Loved sharing a space with him.  

Even when the first month was staying as far away from him in the bed as possible so he didn't risk hitting Rafael accidentally.  Even when it was watching Rafael lose weight because his pain meds made him too sick to eat.  Even when it was painful, watching Rafael grow listless and depressed because his entire identity and sense of self worth was wrapped up in his ability to do his job and that had been taken away from him. 

Sonny loved all of it because this was all he'd wanted to be able to do a few months ago, head resting on Rafael’s hospital bed with the heart monitor beeping in his ear. He'd done a lot of praying in those first few days, and every single time he closed his eyes he promised that he would do everything in his power to help Rafael as long as he lived.  And he had.  Rafael's recovery had gone off without a hitch and there wasn't a doubt in Sonny's mind that his prayers had been answered.  As far as Sonny was concerned, he was just upholding his end of the bargain.  

Joyfully.  Graciously.  

Still floored by his good fortune that Rafael was alive and whole. 

Rafael, who was… not in front of the TV.

That was unexpected.  

Good, but unexpected.

The living room was immaculate again, how it had looked before Sonny moved in and exploded into the space.  He was starting to worry he’d walk in to find his things in boxes but he could see them all in their proper place - his books next to Rafael’s, his framed family photos on the mantle next to one of Rafael and his mother and grandmother.  One of the two of them together, taken almost a month ago now.  Christmas Eve, when Sonny’s parents had surprised them with a homecooked meal and invited his mother along.  Rafael’s mother, who was just as picky about people as her son, had found a surprising friend in Sonny’s father.  The two of them had sat apart from the chaos the entire night, mostly quiet with the occasional laugh or eye roll when another fight broke out.  

When he wasn’t in the kitchen as the referee, Sonny stayed on the end of the couch.  Nestled against the arm so he could wrap his own around Rafael’s shoulders.  Holding him close, close enough to whisper smart comments in his ear whenever one of his sisters started bickering about something stupid.  It always made Rafael laugh.  Even though he was clearly overwhelmed by everyone in his home, even though he was tired and was due for another pain pill soon.  Bella had snapped the picture in one of those moments, Sonny’s mouth against Rafael’s ear and a sardonic smile gracing the curve of Rafael’s lips.  He wasn’t sure they’d ever get a better picture of them in their lives as this one, unaware and in the moment.  Rafael himself had even been the one to suggest putting it in a frame.  

Of course, that meant it had become the calling card for when Rafael was mad at him.  When Sonny screwed up his face was covered.  When Rafael had done something wrong he tilted it so that you could only see Sonny’s face from his place on the couch.  One time Sonny came home to find it face-down because he’d told Rafael over lunch that he needed to do the exercises his physical therapist left for him more than once a week.

Now it was still in its proper place.

The two of them, close.

Happy.

It was the sight of that picture untouched that kept him from feeling worried as he stripped his coat off and put it in the closet next to Rafael’s.  Rafael’s coat, a deep black, that was still slightly damp from the falling snow.  It must have started earlier than he thought if it was still going when Rafael had his appointment right after lunch.  Or, Sonny mused as he closed the closet door, Rafael had been out later in the day.  He pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he walked through the apartment, noticing the smell of sweet melting candle wax and something that smelled a lot like vodka sauce if his nose was to be believed.

His nose was right, as always.

Rafael was in the kitchen, standing at the stove and stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon.  Dressed.  Not just in the lounging clothes he’d adopted since coming home, but dressed like himself.  In dark slacks fitted tight on his hips and across his ass, tight through the line of his thighs.  A crisp white shirt that was clearly tempting fate while cooking, sleeves rolled to his elbows.  His watch was back on his wrist.  The new one, the replacement that Sonny had gotten him for Christmas after Shaw’s attack had destroyed the original.  Rafael’s hair had been recently cut and styled, the smell of his cologne was in the air.  When Sonny’s mouth watered it had nothing to do with the sauce simmering and everything to do with the man in front of him.

Rafael looked… amazing.

Rafael looked like himself.

For the first time in a very long time.

“If that’s not going on penne I might have to divorce you,” Sonny said, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.  Rafael didn’t jump.  Only scoffed and shook his head, facing Sonny with a mildly annoyed expression that still managed to communicate affection.

“We’re not married.”

“Yet.”

“We’re not going to be at all if you’re already threatening to divorce me over pasta.”

“Hey,” Sonny replied with faux outrage, “A man’s gotta have a line in the sand, alright?  So… penne?”

Rafael heaved a sigh.

A long, loud, put-upon thing that made Sonny smile wider.

“Yes, it’s penne.”

Sonny watched while Rafael went back to the stove, stirring intermittently and checking the timer on his pasta.  It was a slice of normal that made Sonny’s chest constrict, his breath catch.  Just Rafael, working in the kitchen.  Making dinner.  But maybe this isn’t entirely normal because could see the dining room done up too.  White tablecloth, wine.  The candles he’d smelled upon walking in the door were lit in the center of the table - long white candlesticks, scented like warm vanilla, glowing in the dim light.  If his detective skills were to be believed, they were celebrating something.

“How did your appointment go?” he asked, hands in his pockets and watching Rafael carefully for a sign that things didn’t go as planned.  A tense shoulder, a hanging head.  A pause in his stirring, none of which came.  Rafael hardly reacted at all, only setting the wooden spoon aside to turn and lean his back against the counter.

“You’re supposed to ask me that over dinner,” Rafael replied but didn’t seem irritated at all.  He met Sonny’s eyes, green to blue, and crossed his arms over his chest.  “You were supposed to spend this time ogling me and not noticing anything else until I surprised you with the fact that I was cleared to go back to work.”

Sonny beamed at the proud smile threatening to overtake Rafael’s face.  

“Liv and I knew you were,” he told him.  “She said she didn’t hear an explosion in the distance.”

He snorted.

“She would say that,” he replied and turned when his timer went off.  “And I’m sure you disagreed.”

“Nah,” Sonny contradicted.  “I agreed completely.”

“Traitor.”

Sonny watched, enraptured, as Rafael picked up the pot of pasta and took it to the sink to drain.  He couldn’t stop his eyes from focusing on his bad shoulder, watching for signs of weakness or any hint that Rafael may have to drop the weight of the pot because it was too much.  There wasn’t even a suggestion of weakness.  It held some strain, Rafael still seemed to favor it, but there wasn’t a second where Sonny worried he’d drop it.  It was small, almost inconsequential, but between Rafael looking like himself and acting like himself and doing things he’d always done… Sonny was struck with something painfully sweet deep in his chest.  Something that told him the dark stuff was behind them, that they were on the other side of it now after long months trudging together through the shadows.  

“I wanted to thank you,” Rafael started, pulling Sonny from his thoughts.

He frowned, confused.

“Thank me?” he asked.  “What for?”

“For taking care of me the last few months,” Rafael replied and couldn’t be bothered to turn around, focusing instead on his cooking because it would better hide the fact that he didn’t want to look at Sonny while he was embarrassed.  “You’ve done… you’re still doing so much more than many people would in your position and I want you to know that I see it.  And I appreciate it.”

“"Is that all I am to you?  A caretaker?" Sonny teased, smirking because he knew better.  

"No," Rafael replied honestly and finally did turn around, arms back across his chest.  "You're the man I love, who's been demoted to a caretaker for the entirety of our relationship and I hate it.”  

Sonny frowned, standing straight again.  “You hate it?”

“Yes.  I do.”  Rafael’s chin was up and his stance was strong, eyes unblinking.  “I want another chance.  A fresh start.  One without doctors and hospitals and you being terrified to touch me."

"Really?  Because I don't."

Well, except for the no-touching part.

It had been a long six months.

Rafael balked, eyes narrowing.

Voice suspicious as he commented, "This couldn't have been easy for you.”

"It wasn't.  But if I'd wanted easy I would’ve had to run right out the door as soon as I laid eyes on you," Sonny replied honestly, taking a step forward.  "I'm here for all of it, Rafi.  Not just the easy stuff.”

“I know that,” he shot back, surprisingly bitter.  “I’m trying to tell you that this wasn’t… it’s not how I wanted to do things.”

“I know.  And I understand that.  But if you’re worried about me resenting the fact that you needed me the last few months you’re way off base,” Sonny told him frankly as he moved across the length of the kitchen to get closer to Rafael.  “It wasn’t the ideal, Rafi.  It was hard for me and I’m sure it was worse for you.  That being said, I don’t think I would have ever found a better way of telling you how much I love you.”

Rafael looked up, surprised.  As though the thought hadn’t occurred to him.  Like he never would have considered that Sonny’s caretaking had been an act of love rather than necessity or obligation.

“Taking care of you was one of the best things I’ve ever done if you ask me,” he continued, stopping just in front of Rafael, so close the toes of their shoes almost touched.  “And you know what else?  I plan on doing it every chance I get so you might as well get used to it.  In sickness and in health.  Unless it’s the flu, anyway.   Then you’re on your own.”

“I love you too,” Rafael said, rough voice betraying the steadfast look in his eyes.  He looked grateful, like this was what he had been trying to say all along.  "You're more than I deserve."

“Yeah, probably," Sonny replied, grinning at Rafael’s scoff as he crowded him close and dipped his head to take in another deep breath of Rafael’s expensive cologne.  “But you're stuck with me, so…”

“No,” he told him, “Not stuck.  I’m lucky to have you.”

“You sweet-talking me, counselor?” he asked, lips affixed to the smooth line of his jaw.  

“Maybe.  Is it working?”

Sonny hummed his assent.

“Will it keep working if I tell you how you’re too good for me?” he asked, hand coming up to cup the back of Sonny’s neck.  He rewarded Rafael’s question with a kiss lower, closer to his throat.  “Mmm.  How about if I tell you how happy I am with you?  How I didn’t think I would ever feel this way about anyone?  I didn’t even think I was capable until I met you.”

Oh, he was hitting buttons alright.

Every friggin’ one of them.

Sonny’s hands found Rafael’s hips, dinner all but forgotten behind them.

“I’m going to feel this way about you forever, Sonny,” Rafael murmured against his ear, warm breath on the tender skin making him shiver.  His voice was a grating whisper now, rough on Sonny’s ears and hell on his heart.  “I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of my life.”

He hardly had time to appreciate the words before they landed somewhere deep in his chest, reverberating off his ribcage.

It hit him like a sucker punch.

Sonny lost his balance a little, leaned into Rafael and braced himself with a hand on the counter behind him while his pulse thrummed and heat suffused his bloodstream.  The moment washed over him in waves, a rising tide that stole his breath and sent a thrill over his skin.  There was something heady and dark swirling under his skin, something whose darkness betrayed the bright flashes of warmth within it.  He recognized it instantly.  Rafael in the past, a mouthy little shit from the Bronx who was smarter than anyone ever guessed.  Rafael in the present, the scarily brilliant and hardworking ADA with a smart mouth and a hard head.  Rafael, the love of his life.  Rafael in the future, grown soft and loving with age in a way that only Sonny would ever see. 

Sonny wanted to see it, all of it.

He couldn’t help the certainty that he would while his brain reacquainted itself with the sensation of Rafael’s presence under his ribs.

“Sonny?” Rafael asked him gently, large hand trailing up the column of his spine.  “What happened?  Are you with me?”

Sonny choked a teary laugh and reached for Rafael’s other hand, placed the palm square on the right side of his chest.  Pulled back just far enough so he could see Rafael’s face when he recognized the beat of his own heart.  Steady, even.  Healthy.  Next to Sonny’s, where it belonged.

Rafael's eyes jerked up. 

“How-?”

Sonny grinned, didn’t bother with a response.

Not when kissing him was the only thing on his mind.

Sonny took Rafael’s face in his hands and ducked down to taste him, hoping that the flavor of Gewürztraminer on Rafael’s tongue was from a quick sip and not an actual glass because Sonny  _ knows  _ he knows better.  That worry was pushed aside with the first glance of Rafael’s fingers across his ribs and Rafael stepping into the space between Sonny’s legs and suddenly all he can think about is the fact that it had been  _ so long  _ since they’d even tried anything.  Not for about a month, when Rafael had been particularly handsy and persuasive and Sonny had been particularly weak.  A month ago, when they’d learned that for all Rafael’s insistence getting a blowjob with a cracked sternum was  _ not  _ a good idea.

Neither was getting on your knees to give one.

Sonny had watched while Rafael’s contorted in pain at the first touch of his tongue and all his muscles had clenched in anticipation, had seen the mild panic on Rafael’s face when he considered the fact that he may not be able to get up again from his kneeling position on the floor at Sonny’s feet, and he’d pledged right in their living room in front of God Himself that he wouldn’t get talked into this again.  Not until the doctor gave Rafael the go-ahead.  At the time Rafael had agreed, the mood thoroughly suffocated.  It took another week for him to try again but Sonny had stood by his pledge to remain celibate until it was safe and painless.

It had been a long,  _ long  _ six months.  

A six months that was coming to a close, Sonny realized with a helpless roll of his hips into Rafael’s.  His lover was healthy, was rocking right back into him with all the enthusiasm the occasion deserved.  Sonny had to pretend he wasn’t already perilously close to coming just at the realization that sex was an  _ option _ .  That was the state of his sex life, rather the lack thereof.  Rafael was in the same boat if the flush high on the tips of his ears was anything to go by, his hands wandering over the length of Sonny’s torso like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

“Raf.   _ Rafi _ ,” Sonny gasped when he felt Rafael’s lips find the hollow of his throat.  

“What?”

“Did your doctor clear you for this too?”

He felt Rafael’s fingers at his belt.

“I told you he did.”

“Where’s the note?”

Rafael stopped, eyes wide.  

“Note?!  Jesus  _ Christ _ , Sonny, I didn’t ask him for one because-”

Sonny grinned.

This big, beaming smile that he could feel stretching nearly to his ears.  Rafael looked at him, incredulous and exasperated, before shaking his head and going right back to kissing him.  The time for jokes was behind them, apparently, but Sonny really couldn't help himself.  Not when he felt so light and happy with Rafael’s lips on his and the promise of so much more to come.  

More like Rafael’s lips on his neck as they stumbled through the dining room, pausing briefly to blow out the candles on the table.  It plunged them into darkness as they moved down the hallway toward their bedroom.  Sonny’s hands were everywhere he could reach, familiar enough with Rafael’s body and still somehow as enthralled with it as though it was his first opportunity to learn the landscape.  The curves of muscle and bone that made him up, that set him apart.  That housed the mind he admired and the heart he so desperately loved.  

Rafael led the way, like he usually did. 

He was the first to pry the waistcoat from Sonny’s body, the first to remove his tie clip and send it clattering to the floor.  The first to elicit a long moan from Sonny’s mouth as he tugged on his tie, first to draw him closer and then to tear it off entirely.   For a little while it was all Sonny could do to keep up, desperately trying to give as much as he got but painfully distracted by the sound of Rafael’s breathing in his ear.  He'd imagined this a million different ways over the years but none of those fantasies had included how much Sonny  _ needed  _ this to be perfect.  How much he'd feel the weight of Rafael’s love in his chest while the rest of their lives stretched out ahead of them.  This was their first time, the first of many, and the awareness rendered him speechless. 

Sonny was hopeless. 

It was good, really good.

It was perfect. 

It was perfect as he walked Rafael backwards into their bedroom, until Rafael’s legs met the edge of the bed and he fell backwards.  Sonny pounced, crawling on top of him and straddling his hips while his hands reached for Rafael’s shirt.  He pried buttons loose, barely avoided tearing them off entirely because he knew Rafi would kill him.  It would wait until after they’d fucked each other senseless, but he’d still kill him.  It was because he valued his life that Sonny took his time and released them one at a time, leaning forward to press a kiss to every inch of skin the parted buttons revealed.  The skin bronze even in the darkness of winter, flushed rose gold under Sonny’s attentions.

It wasn’t until Sonny had removed the shirt entirely that Rafael tensed, suddenly remembering that the body he’d originally prepared to offer Sonny had changed.

The scars didn’t bother him.

Not like they did Rafael.

Surgical scars, small and thin now.  Well healed for months but still not accepted by their owner if the way Rafael tried to conceal them was any indication.  There were two on his chest from the initial surgery, four more smaller incisions from the surgeries to his shoulder.  For a man so accustomed to dressing well, to looking as close to perfect as humanly possible, Rafael had been less than appreciative of these new aspects of his body.  That was why Sonny chose to press his lips to every single one of them, to draw the tip of his tongue down their length until Rafael stopped trying to deflect his attention and melted into it instead.  Accepted Sonny’s affection like he accepted everything else - reluctantly, with a hint of scorn, until he decided it suited him.

It didn’t take long for Sonny’s touch to suit him.

Especially when it moved lower, to his belt.

To the button of his pants.

To the zipper as Sonny dragged it down and revealed the hard line of Rafael’s cock, trapped and dripping into the soft cotton of his briefs.  Tasting him was all Sonny could think about, at least until Rafi got his hands on either side of his hips by his belt loops and dragged him back up, fingers fumbling on Sonny’s belt buckle.  Pulling it apart, ripping at his fly until his pants were loose enough to shove down over his hips.  Over his ass, far enough down to free the flagging swell of his cock from the constraints of fabric keeping him hidden.  Rafael's eyes were drawn down instantly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip while his hands closed over Sonny’s waist and pressed him down so that the apex of his thighs ground down on Rafael’s still-clothed erection.  They both breathed in gasps, Rafael’s grip hard on Sonny’s hips as he arched his own up in search of friction.  Friction Sonny was enjoying in spades with Rafael's hand on him, dragging upward in dizzyingly slow strokes designed to drive him up the wall. 

It was hypnotizing. 

Grind down, circle. 

Rafael groans. 

Push up, fuck into Rafael’s fist.  

Sonny groans. 

The pattern continued until a fine sheen of sweat covered his body and his dress shirt clung to his skin.  Sonny felt himself drawing perilously close to the edge and while this was a position that greatly held his interest, he had plans.  Plans that involved doing everything they’d been missing out on and more, taking the responsibility for both their pleasure in his hands and running with it.  It wasn’t a concept that worried him or added any pressure, oddly enough - he liked doing the work.  The work that required him to lay his hand on Rafael’s wrist, wordlessly asking for a pause while he pulled out of his grip and slid down his legs.  

Sonny stood and shed his own clothes, keeping eye contact.  Keeping an eye on Rafael's enraptured expression the entire time.  At some point he would have expected Rafael’s attraction to him to stop being a surprise, to stop flooring him when it was so obvious on his face.  It hadn’t happened yet and if anything it was magnified by a hundred times now, Rafael’s eyes on him while he took the time to bare his own skin.  When he was naked he kneeled down at the side of the bed, reaching up for Rafael's waistline and pulling the rest of his clothing from his body in one strong pull.  Rafael looked like he wanted to make some smart comment, probably something about Sonny being a little too eager, but it died on his tongue when Sonny reached up to grab Rafael’s thick thighs.  

One leg in the crook of each arm, Sonny pressed a tender kiss to the inside of both before he gave one hard pull and hauled Rafael to the edge.  Delighting in the shocked gasp he hooked Rafael’s legs over his shoulders, knees on either side of his head, and licked a long stripe from the hot clench of his asshole to the heavy mound of flesh a few inches above it. Rafael murmured endearments that sounded much more like curses while Sonny sucked firm kisses into the skin below his sac and nipped his teeth into the tender crease between his leg and his groin.  He was rewarded with a tilt of Rafael’s hips, the grasp of Rafael’s hands on his forearms as Sonny kept his legs pried apart.  Sweeping his tongue up the length of him, Sonny basked in the murmured grunts of praise leaving Rafael’s mouth.

Words that ceased to be intelligible once his tongue pushed past Rafael’s entrance and delved into the heat beyond.

It was harder to hold him open then, not with the bucking of Rafael’s hips and the clench of his thighs around Sonny's ears.  Harder still to avoid touching himself while Rafael keened and begged for more, told him how good Sonny’s tongue felt inside him.  How he knew Sonny would treat him so well, would worship so faithfully between his legs.  He wasn’t sure if Rafael knew the effect he was having, how the words fell heavy on Sonny's ears like the sweetest blasphemies he would ever confess to needing.  The praise only made Sonny work harder, dig deeper into his body with broad strokes of his tongue until it ceased to be tasting and became fucking instead.  By the time Rafael had softened and opened to him Sonny’s chin was dripping and his forefinger fit in easily, curling up beside his tongue to work him open further.  

“More,” Rafael finally growled, digging his fingers into Sonny’s arms.  “Give me more.  What are you waiting for?”

Bossy son of a bitch.  

He was lucky Sonny loved him.

Because instead of pulling out entirely and taking his sweet time, Sonny kept one finger moving inside him while his other hand reached for his nightstand.  His fingers closed around a small bottle and brought it out, grinning as Rafael’s eyes narrowed in on it instantly.  Sonny felt a reflexive clench around his finger and groaned, already imagining what that same hold would feel like on a significantly thicker part of his body.  The thought had him throbbing, rushing a little more than he planned because suddenly being inside Rafael wasn’t something he was willing to wait for anymore.  It was going to be  _ now  _ or he was going to die trying.

“Up, get up,” Sonny ordered, surprised to find himself so hoarse.  “Get on the bed.”

Rafael quirked an eyebrow.  

“Giving me orders, detective?” he asked haughtily, smirk firmly in place even with his legs spread over Sonny’s shoulders.  “I’d be more inclined to follow them if you didn’t look so desperate.”

Sonny scoffed, even if the antagonism made his dick twitch against his leg.  

“Not as desperate as you’ll be about five minutes from now,” he replied with easy confidence as Rafael’s eyes darkened.  “Now  _ move _ .”

Rafael never lost his smirk but he did get moving, sliding toward the head of the bed while Sonny followed.  He paused when his head rested on the pillows, legs falling open again for Sonny to fit himself between them.  Admiring his handiwork, the skin flushed red and the purple mottling on the insides of his thighs, Sonny slicked his fingers and rewarded Rafael’s compliance with two long fingers pressed deep, scissoring him open fast and hard while Rafael panted and keened below him.  Arched his back off the bed and wrapped his legs around Sonny’s waist.  Fought to reach him even as Sonny stayed on his knees, out of range.  The lack of touch only frustrated him more, which Sonny found unbearably arousing.  

Watching Rafael struggle to get to him while Sonny stayed out of reach and finger fucked him open?

He’d never been so hard in his life.

Except, maybe, for the second Rafael’s wrecked voice ordered him to stop playing around and get inside him.  

That was definitely the highlight of the evening so far.

Sonny opened the bottle of lube again and poured a slow drizzle over Rafael’s balls, watching as it trickled and rolled down to gather at his loosened hole.  Rafael hissed at the cold and Sonny stayed mesmerized as he poured it over himself, working his hand over his length to spread it.  Even the tightness of his fist couldn’t compare, though, when he squared his hips and pushed into Rafael for the first time.

The vice of Rafael’s body welcomed him in, all clutching heat and perfection.  Sonny rolled his hips until he was seated fully, allowing himself to fall forward and rest his hands on either side of Rafael’s head.  The sensations were making his head swim but he managed to look at Rafael anyway, moaning at the blissed out look on his face.  He couldn’t stop himself from swooping down for a kiss.  Deep and languid, indulgent after long minutes since their last kiss.  Rafael was settling in for the long haul, licking into Sonny’s mouth and breathing heavily when Sonny decided to move.  Rolling his hips away only to shove back in, rocking Rafael’s body and forcing a whine from his lips.  He looked up at Sonny, surprised, while Sonny took the liberty of one more kiss before moving in earnest.  

Hard, slow strokes at first.

Just to acclimate himself, just to learn the rhythm the two of them seemed to fall into without thinking about it.  It was only once Rafael started canting his hips up that Sonny took the hint and moved faster.  Snapping his hips into the molten heat of Rafael’s body while the man himself murmured into his ear.  Sweet nothings designed to spur him on, using praise and challenge interchangeably until they mixed and melded together.  It was all Sonny could do to keep from fucking Rafael deep into the  mattress, into the headboard while those words were spinning through his mind.  Rafael knew it, too.  The pleased grin was evidence enough of that, at least until Sonny pulled all the way out and thrusted back  in before Rafael had even gotten the chance to complain.

After that, there wasn’t much Sonny could do to hold off the inevitable.

It was too good.

He wasn’t going to last.

The only saving grace was that Rafael seemed to be close as well, his thighs tight around Sonny’s waist and his hips pistoning up to meet him so that the resulting sound of skin meeting echoed in the room around them.  Now Sonny himself was talking, all the snark burned away by the need to tell Rafael just how loved he was.  How amazing his body felt, taking Sonny in.  How Sonny could feel Rafael’s heart racing next to his own and it was more than he’d ever hoped for.  Rafael was more than he’d ever hoped for.

It was Rafael’s fault, it really was.

Sonny couldn’t help himself.

Not when Rafael’s lips were pressed against his neck, sucking deep with a hint of tongue before releasing him and whispering in his ear.

“Show me you love me, Sonny,” Rafael rasped, sending shivers rolling over Sonny’s skin while his hips bucked with abandon.  “Come for me.  Fill me up.”

Nope.

Done.

Sonny detonated, going off like a firecracker in a dark room.  His entire body shook with it as he thrusted deep and stayed, pouring his release into the hot clench of Rafael’s body.  He couldn’t help the pained cries leaving his mouth while Rafael did his best to talk over his noises.  Their hearts pounded and stuttered in unison while Rafael told him he could feel Sonny coming; could feel the hard throbs of his cock, could feel the thick spurts of his come as it filled him up.  Head swimming, eyes closed, lips close enough to be taking in each other’s air, Sonny wasn’t entirely sure he was even living anymore.  At least not until he realized he still had a job to do.

Sonny pulled out, admiring the small spill of milky white as Rafael’s ass clutched at air in his absence.    

“Sonny, no.  No, don’t stop.  Don’t stop, I’m so close.  Damn it!” Rafael swore, panting, as he watched Sonny move away.  The smug pleasure had faded now, traded for annoyance as he propped himself up on his elbows to glare at him.  “What are you doing?  Come back, I- oh  _ fuck.”   _

All the fire bled right out of him at the first graze of Sonny’s tongue around the swollen crown of Rafael’s cock, flushed and hardened even before it passed through Sonny’s lips and over his tongue.  He stretched out on his stomach, draped over the lower half of Rafael’s body.  Sonny loved his shaking thighs around his shoulders, loved the way Rafael’s breaths seemed to thunder out of his lungs.  Humming his approval, drunk with the taste of him, Sonny circled his tongue around the taut head while Rafael jerked and groaned.  Face dark with color, jaw slack while he watched Sonny work.  Work that felt more like a privilege when he moved to take him deeper, to the back of his throat where he could feel Rafael wedge into the tight space while Sonny swallowed around him.

“Fuck, oh fuck.  Sonny.  That’s it, just like that.  Just like that.”

Sonny hummed some more, moved a little faster.

“Oh, you feel so good.  You’re so perfect,” Rafael gasped.  “Oh, God Sonny.  Jesus, that's perfect.  You’re doing so good.”

Him?

If Rafael kept up this kind of talk Sonny would be ready to come again in a minute or two.

“Faster,” he breathed finally, eyes slipping closed when Sonny peered up through his lashes to sneak a peek.  He obliged, just because Rafael looked so goddamn gorgeous in the throes of coming apart.  He figured he was doing a good enough job when Rafael’s instructions devolved into long groans and unintelligible cries of encouragement.  Sounds that jolted him like electricity because if he thought Rafi’s court voice was problematic it had nothing on the sound of him getting off on Sonny’s mouth.  Rafael occasionally tossed out more commands -  _ deeper, faster, more -  _ but he had his own ideas about how he wanted this to end.  

While Rafael was busy gripping the sheets Sonny removed one hand from Rafael’s thigh and ventured lower.  Lower, past the base of his cock and the tightening flesh of his sac.  Past the giving valley of tissue behind it.  Rafael was oblivious of his intentions until the very second Sonny curled his fingers through the softened ring of muscle and pressed upward.  Rafael arched into it instantly, falling back to the back with a hoarse cry and reaching for Sonny’s head while he hollowed his cheeks and took him deeper.  His fingers sought and pushed inside Rafael, his way smoothed with a mix of lube and his own come, while Rafael tangled his fingers in Sonny’s hair and pulled.  

Hard.

Hard enough to get an outright moan from him.

Hard enough to have him rear up and focus on Rafael’s head, sucking and pulling and swirling his tongue while his fingers finally reached their destination.  He knew he'd found Rafael’s prostate when his hips arched off the bed, sending him deep enough into Sonny’s throat to gag him.  His eyes watered and his breaths came heavy through his nose but he kept on, worshiping Rafael’s length and working his fingers in and out of his shaking body.  

Sonny’s name was a fragmented prayer on Rafael’s lips up until the moment he went deadly still, pushed in deep, and hot come welled up to flood Sonny’s mouth.

He watched as Rafael shook and groaned, determined to catch every minute of it as his fingers slowed and the thick flesh in his mouth pulsed against his tongue.  It was several long minutes before he saw Rafael’s eyes come open, searching him out in the daze his orgasm had left him in.

Sonny looked up through wet lashes, lungs heaving, to lick at his bottom lip.  Fast enough to keep the slick of Rafael's come on his tongue but slow enough that Rafael could see it there before he made eye contact and swallowed him down.  Both their hearts galloped in his chest as he propped himself up again, as he crawled up the bed to collapse.  Next to Rafael, whose eyes were on the ceiling and blinking quickly as though trying to wake up from a dream.

He knew the feeling.

It was very possible he was dreaming.

Sonny lay on his stomach, next to Rafael.

Side by side.

Sonny’s lips to Rafael’s shoulder while the waves faded and the afterglow shimmered on their sweat-slicked skin.  He wrapped his arm across Rafael’s chest, keeping him close.  A few moments later and his eyes had fluttered closed, breath ghosting over Rafael’s shoulder.  There was a long, satisfying minute where he considered going to sleep.  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t even eight o’clock - the exhausted satisfaction he felt went even deeper than bone and he wasn’t going to make it another second, not with Rafael warm and sated next to him.  

“Dinner is ruined, I hope you realize.”

Sonny huffed a tired laugh, drawing his arm tighter across Rafael’s chest.

“Don’t care.  Wake me up in an hour and I’ll order a pizza.”

Rafael made an affronted noise.

“I worked hard on that sauce.”

“No you didn’t,” he scoffed.  “You emptied the jar into the pan.”

“Your mother worked hard on that sauce.”

“You gonna beg her forgiveness?” Sonny asked pointedly, not even bothering to open his eyes.  “Make sure to tell her why it got neglected, too.  In full detail.  She’d love that.  You’ll never get so much as a spoonful of anything she makes so long as she lives after hearing how you defiled her son.”

Rafael guffawed, hard enough Sonny could feel his shoulders shaking.  It took him less than a minute to crack up himself, pausing only pick his head up and press a kiss to Rafael’s chest.  Warm to the touch, trembling with laughter.  He kissed ever part of Rafael could reach while mirth overtook him and Sonny didn’t think he’d ever been happier than he was in that moment - laughing in their bed after the best sex of his life, with nothing but more nights like this one ahead of them.

It was good.

It was perfect.

 

**…**

 

Rafael stood outside the door, anxious.

Feeling ridiculous.

Feeling rattled.

He’d shown up an hour early, somehow sensing that he would be having this exact moment when it came time to stare down the glass window in front of his face.  Staring because he couldn’t quite make himself reach for the doorknob.  Not when he remembered so vividly the last time he’d been on the other side of this door.  Memories that flashed up, unwilling, and made his breath grow short.  Made him doubt the ferocity with which he’d wanted to come back to work.  Even the night before, choosing a dark charcoal suit with a vivid scarlet tie, he’d been trying to impress upon himself the image of  _ power _ .  Rafael was back at work, which meant he was back in control.  This was what he’d been waiting for.

Except…

The door was still closed, his mouth still dry, and Rafael was definitely not in control.  

A cold sweat had threatened to form at his hairline, having little to do with his heavy coat and more to do with the fact that he would just see the edge of his desk through the glass.  

The last time he was here he’d almost died.

He’d said his goodbyes to Sonny and closed his eyes and expected to never wake up again.  It was with significant shock that he’d woken up in the hospital the next day, Sonny stretched out next to him.  Looking haggard.  Looking twenty years older than he had the last time Rafael had seen him.  

It all started here.

It hadn’t ended here.

Rafael reached for the knob.

The cool metal was jarring on his warm skin but he managed to turn it anyway, holding his breath the entire way as the door swung open and he was faced with the sight of his every nightmare for the last six months.  

His office.  

Looking like… his office.

Every book in place, his curtains closed.  

The leather chair and couch in place, the coffee table aligned in front of them.  He’d spent countless hours on that couch.  Working, eating, drinking.  Bitching.  Sleeping, once, when he couldn’t keep his eyes open a second longer and his next meeting was half an hour away.  He’d commiserated with Liv and flirted with Sonny.  Had side-eyed Carmen when she looked at him too knowingly if Sonny happened to be in the chair next to him.  

Rafael took his time, eyes on the art and the useless fireplace.  The window.  The conference table that he seemed to only ever sit  _ on  _ rather than sit  _ at _ .  He made sure to direct his eyes everywhere but at the front of the room.  It required courage, it required time.  It required a stiff drink, which he was still not allowed to have until he was off the pain medication completely.  

Damn doctor.

Damn Sonny.

“You look like you want a drink.”

Rafael turned, surprised to see the man himself standing in his doorway.  Leaning onto the frame, arms crossed over his chest.  Badge on the front of his coat and a warm smile in his eyes.  He’d been in bed when Rafael left, trying to sleep off a late shift from the night before.  Sneaking into the shower and through their closet had been a breeze with Sonny’s soft snoring echoing in the room.  He hadn't so much as budged as Rafael left.  Granted, that was almost two hours ago now.  Rafael had stopped somewhere for a another coffee.  And maybe ate breakfast there… and maybe gotten another cup for the road.

“So now you’re a psychic too?” Rafael snarked with a distinct lack of venom.  “Let me know if you ever manage to settle on one set of skills so I can get accustomed.”

Sonny only smiled.    

Rafael ignored it, eyes pointedly straying to the fireplace again.  He felt ridiculous, being so opposed to even looking at the front of his office.  Logically he knew the desk had to have been replaced.  Aside from the damage, aside from Rafael’s blood staining the wood.  He knew Sonny would have had the damn thing burned before ever letting Rafael set foot in the building and yet… yet he still couldn’t bring himself to look at it.  To step any closer than he was now, listlessly shifting on his feet next to the table.

“It’s only furniture.”

Damn Sonny.

Maybe psychic wasn’t so far off after all.

“I know that,” Rafael groused in return. 

“I know you do.  Doesn’t mean you feel it.”

Rafael sighed.

Sonny was right, of course.

“It feels… tainted.  All of it.  Like there’s a stain I’m never going to get out.  That I can't even see.”

Sonny nodded slowly.  Rafael had no doubt he understood, even when he'd failed to communicate the feeling effectively. 

“I get that.  But if it helps, I have a lot of good memories here,” he replied honestly, leaving his place in the doorway to walk inside the office.  Rafael found himself grateful for Sonny’s nearness; even a few feet away from the object of all his fears he felt safer with Sonny in the room.  

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah.  Hand to God, every time I walked in here and saw you stretched out in that chair with a pen in your mouth I friggin’ died,” Sonny told him and Rafael scoffed.  “And that was, what?  A good three years of that?”

“About,” Rafael admitted, trying not to smile.

He’d liked the overeager detective coming to see him, too.  And maybe the first time or two getting caught with his oral fixation had been an accident.  The hundreds of times since not so much. 

“We used to crash out over here on this couch and the chair to do research,” Sonny continued, turning to look at the furniture in question.  “I always took the chair because I didn’t have the guts to sit directly next to you.  Figured you’d know the truth as soon as I did because I was so obvious about it.  You know, back when I wasn’t sure you were interested and was still trying to impress you.”

“And you’re sure now?” Rafael teased, totally unnecessarily because they both knew better. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, waving him off.  “Don’t act like you’re not crazy about me.”

Rafael smirked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s not all that happened on that couch,” Sonny teased with all the subtlety of a foghorn in a quiet room, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  Rafael rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile threatening to turn the corners of his mouth up.  “Huh, Rafi?  Remember?  Because I do.  Regularly.  Particularly in the shower while you’re still asleep.”

“Not asleep,” Rafael corrected meaningfully.  “I like hearing you too much to sleep through it.”

Sonny flushed.

_ Beautiful. _

Rafael took the warmth singing beneath his skin and did his best to transform it into confidence, turning finally to face off with the desk.  The desk that wasn’t even the one he’d been beaten into but scared him anyway.  As if the memory had dug into the room itself rather than dissipating into nothing in the six months he’d been gone.  The memory that made his heart race and his hands close into fists.  The memory that made the center of his chest ache long after the bone had healed and his mind reel long after Christian Shaw had died. 

“It’s all yours, Rafi,” Sonny told him knowingly, hands in his pockets.  “It was yours long before it was his.  It’ll be yours long after he’s gone.”

Rafael nodded.  

He circled the desk slowly.

Noticed the lighter wood grain.

The different chair.

His files, neatly locked away.

Sonny’s doing, of course.

All of it was.  

“Our first kiss was here,” Rafael pointed out softly, looking to the side of the wide desk.  

Sonny nodded.

“Yeah.  It was.  Not even two minutes after you told me you loved me,” he replied seriously.  They both chose to ignore the fact that the words had been someone else’s to begin with because it didn't change the fact that they were true.  “Still the best day of my life, by a longshot.  Nothing else can even come close.”

Their moment.

Rafael convinced himself to reach out and touch the edge of the desk, still able to see Sonny’s slender hand slamming into the wood as he doubled over and gasped.  Rafael had been scared out of his mind then too, in the few seconds before his own body had seized and expanded to make room for Sonny’s heart in his chest.

A beat that grounded him for the worst night of his life.

A beat that had grounded him every day since.

Rafael took a deep breath and sank into the chair.  The new one, that seemed comfortable even before he’d been able to break it in.  He ran his hands over the arms, settled in.  Waited for it to feel natural again rather than something that made him feel out of place.  Looked out at his office, looked at the clean and organized desktop.  At his nameplate on the front of it, announcing its ownership to whoever walked in the door.  The view was both familiar and foreign, even as it occurred to him that the room hadn’t changed so much as he had.  

“Looks good on you, counselor,” Sonny told him reverently, his whole heart visible in the clear blue of his eyes.  

Rafael smirked.

“Thanks for pointing that out, detective,” he replied, reaching down to take a file from the drawer.  The first case on the docket for today, if the label on top was to be believed.  “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot to catch up on.  I’m sure you can find something better to do than stare at me.”

Rafael met his eyes.

Green to blue.

Rafael’s whole heart visible in a way that had ceased to scare him a long time ago.

“Sure thing, counselor,” Sonny replied, heading for the door.  Rafael was spared one parting glance, a proud smile that made him ache, before Sonny was gone.  He pulled the door shut silently behind him, leaving Rafael alone.

Not alone, he corrected.  Not with Sonny’s heart next to his own, beating steadily as Rafael heard his footsteps fade down the hall.  Relishing the moment, accepting it for what it was, Rafael smiled to himself and opened the file.

He had work to do. 


End file.
